Tomorrow
by crzcatlady25
Summary: A chance meeting brings an old flame back into Sam Winchester's life. Sam/OFC.
1. Chapter 1

**Tomorrow**

The combination of the spotlight and the smoke in the air made my eyes water, as I took a deep breath and picked up my beat-up, trusty acoustic guitar. I took a sip of the whiskey in my hand to steel my nerves before setting it down on the floor by my stool and thumbing my guitar pick out of the pocket of my jeans.

As soon as I started strumming, my stage fright started to melt away, and I started singing into the microphone.

"When the rain is blowing in your face, and the whole world is on your case, I could offer you a warm embrace, to make you feel my love."

A few couples got up and started swaying to the beat on the dance floor, as the bar's band joined me. I started tapping the heel of my right worn, leather boot on the rung of the stool I was sitting on. In between chords, I wrapped my guitar strap around my shoulder, and stood up, preparing for the chorus. Ben, the piano player, winked at me, and I dropped the guitar, letting it swing to my side, and I wrapped my hand around the mic and belted out the hook.

"I'd go hungry, I'd go black and blue, I'd go crawlin' down the avenue. No, there's nothin' I wouldn't do, to make you feel my love." I opened my eyes, scanning the crowd, and my gaze locked on two men sitting at the bar, both watching me raptly. A blush crept up to my cheeks as I continued the song. "The storms are raging on the rollin' sea, and on the highway of regrets. The winds of change are blowing wild and free. You ain't seen nothin' like me yet."

As I finished the song, I couldn't stop looking at one of the two men at the bar. He was tall, with shoulder length brown hair, and something about him seemed oddly familiar, even if you hadn't remembered seeing him in Pat's before.

"One more time, let's give it up for our own Lacey Cooper!" Ben stood, clapping and gesturing to me as I took a modest bow. I put my guitar back in its case, grabbed my empty whiskey glass and stepped off the small stage.

I made my way over to the end of the bar, signaling Mickey, the bartender, for another drink. He came over a moment later, fresh glass in hand.

"This one's taken care of." He winked at me, tilting his head in the direction of the two flannel clad men, who were watching me earlier. "You did good tonight, kiddo. You gonna sing one of your own?"

"Nah, not tonight. All of my songs still need work. And there's not enough Walker in this place to convince me otherwise." I winked back, smiling widely.

I had been a bartender at Pat's for about four years, since I had moved to Great Bend. The owner, Mickey, heard me singing to myself one night while cleaning up, and asked me if I had ever performed before. After that he had insisted on me singing once or twice a weekend, and I had been doing covers ever since.

The long-haired guy's friend stood up, and I smiled, thinking he was coming over to say hello, but my face fell when he headed in the opposite direction, towards a table full of girls from the local community college.

I looked back over at where he was sitting, and saw the tall one looking at me again.

"That's the one," Mickey said in a low voice. "Boy can't take his eyes off you." He took a step back, grabbing a towel off of the bar. "Go get 'em, tiger."

I laughed at my boss, and drank the rest of my Johnnie Walker before stepping away, walking over to thank him for the drink.

"What a small world we live in." He smiled at me, signaling for two more drinks.

"I'm sorry?" I set my guitar case against the bar and sat down on the barstool his friend had vacated.

"Lacey, it's Sam." He looked at me, running his hand through his hair. He looked nervous.

"Sam?" The recognition slipped into place. "Sam Winchester? Oh my god, I haven't seen you since sophomore year! How are you?" I pulled him into a tight hug, wrapping my arms around his neck. He was so tall, I had to reach, even as we both sat on the barstools.

"I'm good, it's been a while. What are you doing in Great Bend? When did you move out of Wichita?" Mickey dropped off the two glasses without a word, making himself scarce.

"I've been here about four years now. What about you?"

Sam had attended school with me for about six months in tenth grade. He sat behind me in three of my classes, and we had become very close friends, until he had disappeared in March, without a trace.

"My brother and I are just passing through. We actually had some business over in Wichita." He pointed to the guy who had walked away earlier, who currently had a drunken blonde in his lap, who was giggling because she had put her pink cowboy hat on the crown of his head.

"Ah, so that's Dean." I took a sip of my whiskey, trying to hide my nerves. It was weird seeing Sam again, after all this time. You were so angry after he left, without a word. You waited for a phone call, a letter, or even an email from him, but none ever came. You eventually gave up and moved on, realizing that he didn't feel as close to you as you were to him. "What kind of business? What does Sam Winchester do to pay the bills?"

"Dean and I, we're um, contractors." He said, fidgeting a bit. "What do you do, besides well, that?" He gestured to the stage.

"I bartend here most nights. Mickey likes to put me on stage on the weekends. He says that it helps with the sales," I rolled my eyes.

"You were great, really." I looked up, blushing, and saw that he was looking at me intensely.

"Well, it's hard to go wrong with Dylan." I brushed off the compliment, awkwardly, and took another sip of the nearly empty drink. The whiskey was starting to go to my head, and I felt my cheeks heat up.

"Would you like another?" His glass was almost empty too.

"Maybe a beer. Too much of this stuff will put hair on your chest." I said, then immediately regretted it. My hand flew to my mouth, embarrassed.

He laughed, good-naturedly, and asked Mickey for two craft beers. When they were delivered, he stood up, and asked if I wanted to grab a booth, so we could catch up. I nodded, and grabbed my bottle. He offered his hand to help me stand, and I accepted it, feeling the old butterflies awaken at our touch.

We found a booth towards the back of the bar, close to the stage, where I set my guitar case down. I would probably be doing one more set before last call, anyway.

We had been chatting, awkwardly, for about thirty minutes, when his brother approached, beer bottle in hand.

"Hey Sammy, I'm gonna head out. Can you make it back to the motel okay?" His eyes met mine, and a mischievous sparkle lit up in his green eyes. "Or are you gonna be at the motel?"

"Dean, this is Lacey. She's an old friend of mine." I stuck out my hand, smiling to hide the disappointment when I heard the word friend. I thought that we had more history than that. Hell, he was my first love.

"Nice to meet you, Dean. Sam told me a lot about you, way back when." We shook hands, my tiny hand being swallowed by his.

"I'm good, Dean. I can walk back. Go have fun."

As soon as Dean walked off, Ben called me back to the stage, as I predicted, to see if I wanted to do a few more songs. I agreed and walked back over to the booth to tell Sam.

"You're not going to disappear on me again, are you?" I meant it jokingly, but was surprised by the look of guilt that washed over his face.

"No, I'm not going anywhere."

Ben and I whispered for a few seconds, trying to decide which of our regular songs we would close out the night with, and I opened my guitar case. The crowd had thinned out quite a bit, so there was only about twenty sets of eyes on me.

We rocked out to Journey, Guns N Roses, and Pink Floyd before I let the whiskey courage take over, locking eyes with the boy who had stolen my heart so many years ago, and I whispered in Ben's ear my request for the last song of the night. I told each of the band members to follow my lead. I knew they all knew the song. It was one of my favorites to belt out while sweeping the floors, but I had never performed it for the crowd.

My guitar pick hovered over the worn strings, as I hesitated. I took a deep breath, and strummed the first chords of the song.

"Tonight, you're mine, completely," I sang softly, into the microphone, eyes squeezed shut. "You give your love so sweetly." The band joined my guitar after the first few bars, and I started tapping my toes to the beat. "Tonight, the light of love is in your eyes. Will you still love me tomorrow?"

I finally gained the courage to open my eyes, losing myself in the song, and I locked my gaze with Sam's, whose expression was full of emotion.

"Is this a lasting treasure, or just a moment's pleasure? Can I believe the magic of your sighs? Will you still love me tomorrow?"

I had dropped my guitar again, letting the band take over, while I grabbed the mic with both hands, holding it close to my face and swaying to the music. I squeezed my eyes shut again, getting ready for the high notes.

"Tonight, with words unspoken, you say that I'm the only one, the only one. But will my heart be broken? When the night meets the morning sun?" I looked at Sam again, singing my heart out, hoping that he could feel me in the notes. "I'd like to know that your love is love I can be sure of. So tell me, tell me now, and I won't ask again, will you still love me tomorrow?" I repeated the last words a few more times, as the band faded out, letting me finish the song acapella.

Everyone in the bar, the few people left, all stood and cheered, and I bowed, trying to hide both the tears in my eyes and the blush creeping up in my cheeks again. I turned around, once again placing my guitar in its case, and with my back to the crowd, I wiped my eyes carefully, making sure not to smear my makeup. I turned back to the mic and Mickey gave me a signal.

"Last call everybody! Thanks for coming out!"

Grabbing my guitar case, I stepped off the stage slowly, not eager to get back to the booth. Sam was standing, his expression unreadable.

"Don't move, okay? I'm going to go close out my tab." I nodded, taking a deep breath. I was considering bolting when he returned.

"So, is there anywhere we can go to talk? I'm not ready to call it a night yet." He stood in front of me, with his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans.

"Not really. Small town and all, everything kind of closes up early. This is the only place that stays open late." He looked down at his feet. "But you can walk me home, if you'd like. It's not far."

"Sure," he followed my lead. I waved at Mickey, telling him good night. As we were navigating toward the front door, he rested his hand on my lower back, to help me through the crowd of patrons who were trying to pay their bar tabs as well.

We stepped out into the cool October night, and I shivered as a breeze blew by. I mentally cursed for leaving my jacket at home.

"Here, it's kind of chilly out here." He shrugged off the flannel shirt he was wearing and draped it over my shoulders. It smelled of the outdoors, woodsy and masculine. Wearing only a thin t-shirt underneath, I could see that his physique had changed quite a bit since I had last seen him. When we first met, he was a scrawny, awkward teenager. Now, he had muscles for days. His arms were nicely toned, without being too muscular, and the shirt hugged his chest nicely.

"Thank you," I muttered, awkwardly. I was too embarrassed to say anything, for my out-of-character behavior. I never wore my heart on my sleeve, being very guarded about my feelings, so my performance earlier had shocked me beyond belief. I blamed the whiskey.

"I can't believe you still have that thing." His gaze dropped to the scuffed guitar case in my hand.

"Why? It's special." I smiled at him. "My best friend gave it to me."

Sam had told me, when he surprised me with it, that he had worked for over a month, doing little jobs for my neighbor, old Mrs. Jenkins, to be able to afford it. I scolded him for spending so much money. The first time I played it for him, he said that it had all been worth it.

We walked in silence until we got to the walkway to my house, a modest two-story that I had inherited from my grandmother. When I needed to get out of the hustle and bustle of the city, this place had been a safe haven. After my parents died in a car accident, I decided to leave Wichita permanently, and moved in here.

We hesitated at the front gate, awkwardly waiting for someone to break the silence. Thunder rumbled close by.

"So, it was really great bumping into you," I started, wishing it hadn't come off so much like a dismissal. I wasn't sure if it was supposed to be. I was so confused, what with the alcohol and the old, buried feelings from almost a decade ago resurfacing.

"Lacey, wait," he grabbed my elbow, gently. "I'm sorry for taking off, for not calling. I was an ass."

"Yeah, kind of." I raised my eyebrow at him. A few raindrops had started to fall. "What happened to you? You were just gone."

"It's complicated. Family stuff." His vague answer did little to soothe my anger that was burning a little brighter, thanks to the whiskey in my system.

Before I could reply, the sky opened up, and it started pouring down on us. I pulled open the gate, making a break for the front porch, Sam following close behind me.

"Come on in, I'll grab you a towel." I sat the guitar case and my purse on the kitchen table and left the room. Birdie, my chocolate lab, bounded off of my bed and to my side, holding her paw up for attention. I squatted down, scratching between her ears while she licked my face excitedly. Her ears perked up, when she heard Sam clear his throat, and she took off down the hallway to greet our visitor.

When I had changed into a pair of leggings and a tank top, and towel-dried my long auburn hair, I reentered the kitchen, holding out a towel to him.

"I don't have a change of clothes for you, sorry." I blushed, looking down. I couldn't meet his eyes.

"No, this is good. Thank you." As he started to pat down his arms and dry his hair, all while being bugged by the dog, I had put a kettle on for tea.

"You probably hate me, for leaving that way. I don't blame you, if you do."

My back was turned to him, as I leaned over the kitchen sink, watching the storm outside the window get progressively worse. He didn't see the tears start to well up in my eyes again.

"Angry? Maybe. But I could never hate you, Sam." I replied, quietly. "We were best friends. Hell, I thought we were more. And then you were just gone."

I jumped slightly when I heard his reply, from right behind me. He had his hands on the counter on each side of me, not touching me, but so close that I could feel his breath.

"We were," his voice sounded sad. "I hated leaving. I begged my dad to let me stay but nothing I could say would change his mind. It was time to go, so I had to."

I was still confused, not gaining any clarity from his explanations.

"So, you left. Okay. Why didn't you write, or call, or anything? You just vanished." My tears stopped, frustration outweighing my sadness, and I turned to face him, ready to push him away. But his proximity stopped me. I was looking up at him, realizing how much taller he really was, and he was staring down into my eyes intensely.

"We were constantly on the move growing up. Dean and I were raised in motel rooms, while our dad carted us around the country for his work. When he left me in Wichita, I didn't think I would be there for more than a week. I didn't expect to be there for half the year." He paused and I jumped in, a horrifying thought coming to my mind.

"Wait, you were there, alone? He just left you here? What about your brother?"

"Dean went with him. I stayed at a motel. That's why we always studied at your place." He smiled sadly.

"What kind of monster would leave a child by themselves for that long?"

"I was hardly a child. I was fifteen." He backed up a bit, and the air felt colder around me. I wrapped my arms around myself, just as the kettle started whistling.

"Tea?" He nodded, turning around to Birdie to scratch her head. After finally being acknowledged, she turned and left the room, her tail swishing contentedly.

"I thought that I was never going to see you again. After they came to get me, I fought with my dad to let me stay, for all of us to stay. It was the first time I had felt at home. But my dad's job wouldn't allow it, so we had to move on. I thought that it would be better to just cut ties, easier."

"Coward," I scoffed, handing him a coffee mug full of green tea.

"Maybe, but I honestly thought I was doing the right thing. A friend, I probably could have kept in touch with, faked a long distance friendship, been pen pals with, but you? You deserved more than that."

I was shocked by his words, and the meaning behind them. We had never actually shared with each other how we had felt, never made that first move, but I had always suspected that he felt similarly. Maybe not love, but there was something there.

"If I had just disappeared, then you could forget about me, move on with your life. Neither of us would have been haunted by the 'what ifs'."

"I could never forget about you." I lifted my own mug up between us, providing myself with a little distance from him, and his beautiful hazel eyes. "I think about you every time I pick up that damn guitar. I thought about you tonight, before I even saw you sitting at the bar." I was so close to admitting to him how much he meant to me, how much he still affected me, after all those years, but the fear of him disappearing again stilled my tongue.

"If I could go back, and change it, I would. I would do so many things differently." He set his untouched mug down on the counter and closed the gap between us, removing my tea from my hands and placing it next to his. His hands rested gently on my hips. My breath caught in my throat, and my heart was pounding. I had to keep him talking. I couldn't let him kiss me, not now, after all this time.

"Like what?"

"I would have fought like hell to stay. I would have called you every chance I got, emailed you constantly."

My eyes kept drifting to his lips, my heart obviously overruling my mind, and I was losing my sturdy resolve.

"I would have sent postcards, letters, from all over the country. I would have made you mix-tapes." He grinned a bit, leaning down towards me.

"I would have kissed you the first time we got caught in a rain storm, waiting for the school bus. I would have told you that I loved you from the first moment I saw you. I wouldn't have wasted a single minute with you." His hands had moved up to cup my face, and I knew this was it. He stood there for a moment, his eyes searching for permission.

"You're leaving tomorrow?" I asked, and his gaze fell, the spell broken. "Then all of the 'what ifs' don't matter. You can't change the past, Sam." I gently placed my hands around his wrists, pulling them away from my face. Turning away to wipe the tears from my eyes and gather my thoughts, I looked out the window again. The storm was getting worse, and you couldn't let him walk all the way back to Great Bend's one motel, three miles away.

"You're not walking anywhere in this, and I've had too much to even think about driving, so I guess we're having a sleepover." I tried to lighten the mood, unsuccessfully.

"It's okay, Lacey, really. It's just a little rain."

"Sam, as awkward as this whole thing is, I'm not letting you leave. I can drive you to the motel in the morning. Please, just say you'll stay tonight?"

"Okay, I'll stay." He turned back to his mug, sipping his tea.

"I converted my guest room into a home studio, so you can take my room. I'll sleep on the couch."

"I'm not going to make you sleep on the couch in your own house. I'll be fine down here."

"Stubborn ass, can't just let someone do something nice for you." I grumbled, half-jokingly, and turned to go grab him a blanket and spare pillows.

When I came back, he was in the kitchen, standing in front of the microwave, watching a bag of popcorn spin on the turntable, two open beer bottles sitting on the counter next to him.

"I hope you don't mind. I was hungry." I chuckled softly, grabbing one of the beers and leaned on the oven door next to him. "You don't have to wake up early, do you?"

"No, I have the day off. Why?"

"I'm just hoping that we could stay up for a bit and talk." I sighed, not looking forward to fighting off any more emotions for the evening. "I just don't want to say good night yet."

I nodded, and followed him into the living room. I knelt down to light a fire in the fireplace and joined him on the couch.

"I can throw that stuff in the dryer for you. I already dried your flannel shirt, so you can wear that while I get the rest of it."

"Sure, that'd be great." He stood up, pulling the wet, grey t-shirt off of his torso, and my mouth went dry as I watched the muscles in his back move. "I'm wearing boxers. Is that too much? I can deal with the wet jeans, if not."

"No, you're fine," I looked away, trying to control the blush creeping up in my face. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the warm firelight dance across his tan skin. I swallowed, audibly, and immediately covered my face with my hand, scolding myself for being the least smooth person in all of Kansas, if not the country.

"Here you go," he handed me his wet clothes, and as I turned to face him, I caught a glance of a tattoo on his chest.

"Let me go get your shirt." I all but ran from the room. Once in the laundry room, I closed the door, leaning against it and attempted to gain control of my whirlwind emotions. After grabbing the flannel shirt, which was dry and warm, I buried my nose in it, inhaling deeply. I didn't want to admit it to myself, but I was trying to memorize the smell, because I knew that once it was gone, I would miss it. Not just the smell; Sam, my long-lost best friend, the boy I had loved so much, without so much as a kiss to hold on to.

I wanted desperately to let go, to finally tell him, show him, how much I still loved him, but fear of tomorrow, (or later this morning, since it was after three a.m.) stopped me. I had never been a one night stand kind of gal, and it just didn't feel right with Sam. I knew that one night, which I could logically pass of as closure, would never be enough for me. And I wasn't sure if he could offer any more to me than that.

I threw in his jeans and shirt into the dryer drum with more force than intended and turned it on. Reentering the living room, I saw his eyes combing over one of my bookshelves. I stood there for a moment, watching him walk around in just his underwear like he belonged here, like this was home. A small smile played at my lips, while I leaned my arm against the door frame.

He turned to look at me, smiling in return.

"What is it? What's that smile for?"

"Nothing, just thinking." I walked over to him, handing over the red flannel.

"Thinking about what?" The flannel hung in his hand. He made no attempt to put it on.

"The past, mostly. How surreal this whole night has been."

"Tell me about it. I tried looking you up when we were in Wichita, but I couldn't find you."

"You did?" I had sat down on the couch, folding my legs underneath me. He joined me a second later, sitting about a foot away from me.

"I wasn't even sure if you would have wanted to see me. I guess I just wanted to see if you were okay. Maybe just see you." He looked down again, at his hands.

"Sam, you're not making this very easy on me."

"I know, and I'm sorry, but you need to know that this hasn't been easy for me either." He turned his body to the side, to face me, and grabbed my hand.

The butterflies were back, joined by a pool of warmth that was spreading through my core.

"Damn it, Sam. Will you put your shirt on? It's distracting." I looked away, taking a heavy drink of my beer. He chuckled, but obliged.

"Better?" He asked, as he was working on the last few buttons.

"Marginally." I rolled my eyes. "Everything in my head is screaming at me that this is wrong, that I should just go to bed, take you to the motel, and forget all about you." He had reached out to grab my hand again, and was softly rubbing his thumb across it.

"There's a 'but,' right?"

"Yes, there's a 'but.' Let me finish." I looked pointedly at him and he threw his free hand up innocently. "But everything else is telling me that running into you tonight was not a coincidence. It was serendipitous, seeing you again, and it's taking all of my energy to fight off the urge to kiss you, take that next step."

"Lacey, I loved you fifteen years ago, and seeing you again makes me realize that I still do. Why fight this?"

"What happens tomorrow? You'll leave with your brother, to God knows where, and when will I see you again? When will I hear from you? The only plausible scenario to come out of that would be a goodbye, and I'm just not that type of girl."

"We could figure this out, make it work. Yes, I travel a lot, but my brother and I live a few hours from here. I could come visit as much as possible."

"You sound so optimistic about that."

"Now who's the coward?"

"Excuse me?" I pulled my hand back, my temper flaring.

"You're completely content in throwing in the towel before even trying. If we try, and it doesn't work out, then at least we'll know."

"I'm not content, trust me. This is the hardest thing I've had to do in a while, and I take no pleasure in this."

"Chicken," he goaded. It was the same tone he used when he was trying to get me to sign up for the school's talent show.

"I am not a chicken." I reached over to the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table and threw a few kernels at him. He deftly caught one of them in his mouth, before one hit him in the eye.

"Ouch, salt in my eye." He pulled back both hands, rubbing his right eye furiously. I felt awful.

"Here, let me see it." I scooted closer to him on the couch, and eased his hand down so I could take a look at his eye. Once my hands were on his face, he wrapped his hands around mine, holding them there, while he pulled his face close to mine.

"I would die before hurting you again, Lacey. I love you." He didn't wait for a response that time. He dipped down, capturing my lips in a soft kiss. My breath hitched, and I felt years of emotion pour into the kiss. I surprised us both by being the one to deepen it. I climbed onto his lap, straddling him while my hands twined into his long, damp hair.

I moved my lips down to his neck, using my hands to open the flannel shirt so I could touch the smooth skin on his chest. His heart was pounding under my fingertips and his breath was deep and ragged. With my legs pressed against his hips, I could feel his erection growing through the thin fabric of his boxers against my center and it drove all rational thought from my head.

I twined my fingers through his hair again, returning my lips to his as I rolled my hips, trying to get even closer to him. His hands ran up the back of my tank top and started stroking the skin on my back, over my bra. I reached down to pull the fabric off of my torso, when he gently grabbed my wrists, stopping the kiss. His expression was pained.

"Lacey, wait." I pulled back, looking into his beautiful eyes, and felt a small sting of rejection. He must have seen it in my eyes, because his lips smirked up and he kissed my nose, gently. "I want to do this right. I screwed up before, and I want to make it up to you."

"Then take off your shirt and follow me to my bedroom." I started to stand, but was pinned to him by his strong arms. I felt heat creeping up my neck and cheeks while dark thoughts raced through my mind. I couldn't remember wanting anyone as badly as I did right then.

"Trust me, I would love nothing more, but I mean it. I want to earn the right to be with you."

His words brought tears to my eyes, and I tilted my head up to kiss him again, but slowly, sweetly. I rose to my feet, grabbing his hand and pulling him up. He wrapped his long arms around me, pulling me into a warm hug, and I laid my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. He kissed my hair before asking me which way my bedroom was located.

"To sleep," he clarified, when he saw the blush creep back into my face. "I would like to spend the night with you, holding you. If that's okay, I mean." He seemed nervous, and for a moment, I could see the awkward teenager in his face again.

"Yeah, that's cool, I guess. But you can't hog the covers." I joked, lightening the mood. If he wanted to wait, I would respect that, but I couldn't imagine crawling into bed with him, as thick as the sexual tension was, and not acting on my baser instincts. I led him to my bedroom door. "Oh, I should warn you. Birdie is a snuggler."

I woke around eleven the next morning, my legs tangled with Sam's under the quilt on my bed. My cheek was resting on his bare chest, and I was listening to his slow, steady breathing. While he was sleeping, I peeked over at the tattoo that was on his chest, just over his heart. It was a pentagram, encircled with what looked like flames. It was a strange design, one I had never seen before. I also started to notice that his smooth skin was marred with various scars that I hadn't noticed the night before.

Before I could contemplate the mystery that was Sam Winchester, he stirred, pulling me against his side with his left arm, turning his face to me and planted a kiss on my forehead.

"Morning," he muttered, sleep still heavy in his voice.

"Good morning." I lifted up to place a kiss on his lips before crawling out from under the covers. "I have to take Birdie for a walk. She hasn't gone outside since last night." I pulled my hair into a sloppy ponytail and headed out.

When I returned, Sam was dressed and standing in front of the coffee pot, waiting for the drip to cease. Two mugs had been laid out on the counter. Seeing him clothed made my heart sink. I was reminded that he was leaving. I hung the leash up on the nail on the wall, stroking her back as she walked over to her water bowl, and plastered on a brave face.

"Dean called. We've got to hit the road soon."

"Right, yeah, of course." I crossed my arms across my chest, standing awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen. "I'll drive you to the motel."

As if he could feel me pulling away, he crossed the room, wrapping me in his arms.

"I meant everything I said last night." He tilted my chin up, forcing me to look into his eyes. "I will do everything I can to make this work, I promise." He placed a chaste kiss on my lips, and I took a deep breath.

We climbed into my old pickup, Birdie whining because she couldn't come along, and he grabbed my hand from across the bench seat. The quick drive downtown was quiet, and before I was ready, I was pulling up next to a gorgeous black Impala, Dean leaning against the trunk.

"Nice car," I whistled. I'd give my right arm to sit behind the wheel of that beauty.

I threw the gear shift into park, and climbed out of the cab.

"Hey Dean," I waved, sheepishly.

"Morning, uh, sweetheart." I chuckled, and reminded him of my name. He blushed.

"Come on, Sammy, Jody called. We've got to get goin'."

He stepped out of the truck too, looking at me sadly.

"I'll call you, every day, scout's honor." He held up his fingers in a salute.

"I'll bet you fifty bucks that you were never a boy scout." I scoffed. He smiled and grabbed my hands.

"Well, I owe you dinner then, and dessert." He put his hand on the back of my neck, pulling my face to his and kissed me, passionately. I heard Dean clear his throat behind him, and he cursed under his breath.

Before he pulled away, he mouthed the words "I love you," to me.

I watched the car drive off until I could no longer see the tail lights on the main road.

Once I climbed back into my truck, I looked at the screen of my cell phone. I had one new text message from Sam, with a heart emoji after it. He must have programmed it while I was out walking the dog.

" _Miss you already."_ I smiled to myself, tears springing up in my eyes.

" _Miss you too."_

A/N: The songs mentioned below do not belong to me. The first is _To Make You Feel My_ Love, written by the great Bob Dylan, and the second is _Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow_ , recorded by many amazing artists, including Amy Wineheart. I also do not own anyone from the SPN universe. I am currently chewing on a possible plot and might be updating soon with a second chapter. Thank you to those who have already read. Let me know if you'd like to see this continue. Stay tuned!


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

I pulled the aluminum door of my mailbox down and smiled when I saw the postcard inside, postmarked Dixon, Missouri. The picture on the front was a golden Labrador puppy sitting inside a rain boot and wearing a pair of sunglasses. I grabbed the rest of the mail and brought it inside, before tossing it on the kitchen table and unhooking Birdie's leash. She walked over to her water dish, drinking greedily, while sloshing water all over the floor. I pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge myself, needing to rehydrate after our five mile run around town.

I sat down, sorting through the stacks of envelopes I brought in, mostly bills and junk, before my eyes settled on the postcard again. It was the eighth one I had gotten in the month since Sam had left Great Falls. I had also gotten letters and a few mix tapes. It was like he was making up for lost time, and I loved every minute of it. We talked on the phone almost every night before bed, sometimes for hours.

I flipped it over, reading his messy script.

" _Lacey, I can't believe that it's been over two weeks since I've seen you. Dean and I have been keeping busy. We're in Missouri right now. I can't wait for this weekend to get here. I miss you. Love, Sam."_

It would be Sam's third visit, and I was beyond ready. He had done a great job at making sure that he was in this all the way, with the phone calls and other various kinds of communication, but I had become increasingly more aware of the distance. I hadn't seen him in fifteen years, and survived, but now, every day felt like a lifetime. It was selfish, I knew that, but I wanted him with me.

He was supposed to come tomorrow, sometime after lunch, and I had taken the weekend off from work, to spend with him.

I finished off my bottle of water, tossing it in the recycling bin and headed upstairs to my recording studio, my favorite room in the old house, by far.

It wasn't much, but I was proud of it. A laptop, microphone, and a bit of soundboard equipment was all I had been able to acquire over the years. It was enough for me to record a few samples and demos, which sat on my hard drive, unused. I was crazy self-conscious about my music, and had always had a problem sharing it with anyone. So, I hadn't actually burned any of it and sent it out.

I had even written one for Sam. I was going to perform it at the talent show he had talked me into joining, as a way of telling him how I felt, when I couldn't find the words, but at the last minute, standing on stage with my new guitar, I chickened out, and sang Creedence Clearwater instead.

Sitting down on the worn, wooden rocking chair, my grandmother's favorite, I opened my notebook and started reading the scribbled lyrics to myself. I grabbed the cord by my feet and plugged it into the bottom of my guitar, which I had converted to a semi-acoustic a few years back. I pulled the headphones up around my head, and started to strum. After taking a moment to tune, I set the program on the laptop to record and started playing.

"You were standing there, fire in your eyes. As you held me in, said 'sorry I didn't write.' We've got seven days, before we say goodbye, back to separate ways, I'll miss you more this time."

I lost myself in the song that I had been working on since Sam had reappeared in my life.

"So won't you stay, till the morning? I've been frozen since that night you sang with me. One more day, for you to hold me, 'cause I don't know when I'll see you again." I saw Birdie pad in, from the corner of my eye, and sit by my feet. "How was I to guess, that I'd still be on your mind. Enough to bring you here, and prove I wasn't right. We don't need to know, the future isn't ours." I saw Birdie stand up, walking over towards the door, where I saw a pair of boots standing there. My voice trailed off, and I pulled the headphones off.

My eyes met Sam's, and I was too stunned to be embarrassed that he had heard me. I set my guitar on its rest and stood up, forgetting that I was still wearing my headphones that were attached to my laptop. After jerking my head back, and blushing horribly, I pulled them off and walked over to him, wrapping my arms around him.

"You're early."

He didn't say anything, just took a deep breath, wrapping his arms around me and burying his nose in my sweaty hair. I could feel him trembling and looked up into his eyes. He had deep bags under them and they were ringed with red.

"Sam, what's wrong?" My heart started to pound and I noticed that he had dried blood on his neck and shirt. "Oh my God, are you hurt?" He still didn't reply, so I walked past him, through the door and pulled him into the bathroom. He seemed to be in a trance as I started pulling off his jacket, then the flannel over shirt he was wearing. He only looked at me after I had pulled the soiled t-shirt off of him. My heart broke when I met his eyes. There was so much pain in them.

I took a deep breath and started scanning his chest for injuries, any sign of where the blood had come from. I grabbed a washcloth, soaking it in the sink, and used it to start cleaning his skin. When I didn't see any cuts, just a few bruises on his chest, I realized that the blood wasn't his, and the pit in my stomach grew deeper.

"Sam, tell me what happened, please." Tears appeared in my eyes, and my voice started to shake. "I'm scared."

"It's Dean," was all he managed to get out before he crumpled into my arms, sobbing.

I pulled him off of the toilet seat, into my arms. I held him until his crying had stopped, and then led him to my room, where we sat on the bed. He laid his head on my chest and I stroked his hair, softly, waiting for him to explain what had happened. We stayed like that for hours, until after the sun set.

"Do you have anything to drink?" He asked, his voice sounding weak.

"Water? Or something stronger?" The look he gave me told me his answer, and I kissed his forehead before leaving the room to get the whiskey. I returned with the bottle and two glasses, and rejoined him on the bed before pouring us both a drink.

"Was it an accident? Something to do with work?"

"Yeah, something like that." He laughed, but it was a harsh sound. He downed the whiskey in one swallow and turned to me, a desperate look in his eyes. He pulled me into a passionate kiss, one that I wasn't expecting. He grabbed the glass from my hand and set it on the nightstand before rolling on top of me, pinning me to the bed. He kissed me again, his hand holding my side under my tank top and I pulled one leg over his back, returning the kiss.

His lips moved from mine, down to my neck, his breath tickling my ear and it sent my arousal into overdrive. I dragged my nails down the bare skin on his back, encouraging him to continue. He responded by kissing lower, across my breasts, stomach, and then stopped at the waistband of my shorts. I pulled my tank top and bra off as one, throwing them to the side. His eyes met mine, seeking permission, and I nodded slightly.

He pulled my bottoms off quickly, before sitting up to unbutton his jeans and step out of his boots. Once naked, he was on top of me again, and pushed himself inside me. My eyes widened, feeling myself stretch to fit him. Before I could get used to the intrusion, he was pumping his hips, driving into me with furious determination. Right before he orgasmed, he looked into my eyes and kissed me. Then his body went rigid, and he murmured my name. Then he collapsed, panting and sweaty, on top of me. The whole ordeal only lasted a few minutes, not long enough for me to finish, but I knew what motivated it and chided myself for having thought that selfishly.

He pulled out of me and rolled over onto his side, resting his head on my shoulder and holding me close. He was asleep almost immediately. I leaned over, kissing his forehead softly.

"I love you, Sam."

I woke up the next morning, alone. The sheets were wrapped around me, and my clothes were still strewn around the room, but there was no sign of Sam. I got up, grabbing the robe from my bathroom and tied it around me. I searched the entire house for him, but he was gone. My eyes filled with tears, while old insecurities invaded my mind.

He was gone. He had left me again, with no explanation.

My heart was racing, and I was feeling the beginning of a panic attack coming on, when I entered the kitchen, and saw a note stuck to the refrigerator door. I pulled it down, my eyes combing it quickly.

" _Lacey, I'm sorry that you're going to wake up and think that I've abandoned you again. I have some things to take care of, and I need to do them alone. I hope you'll understand. I'm also sorry about last night. That was so far from what I had imagined our first time would be like. You deserve more than that. I'll call you as soon as I can, I promise. Love, Sam."_

After reading it, I felt a little better, but the heartbreak was still raw.

The next five weeks passed very slowly. I barely heard from Sam at all. I was lucky to get a phone call once a week, and the letters, postcards, other cute little things he would do ceased all together. I knew that he was grieving and he needed space, and I was being as supportive as possible, but it was killing me.

I filled the time with extra shifts at Pat's, and helping out at the diner in town, while the manager was on maternity leave.

I was standing on stage, half-heartedly singing a country song, a favorite of the patrons, when I saw a familiar face walk into the bar, followed by a man I'd never seen. My heart stopped, and I missed a few words, before regaining my composure and finished out.

I signaled to the band that I needed a break and stepped off stage. I hid in the corner of the bar, watching a dead man approach Mickey, ordering a drink, before sitting down. His companion was a short gentleman, wearing a black suit that matched his hair and beard.

I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and walked to the back storage area to call Sam.

"What's up?" His short answer surprised me, and hurt a bit.

"I'm good, Sam. Thanks for asking." I hated my petulant tone, but the three whiskeys I had drank earlier were apparently taking the front seat.

"Sorry Lacey," he sounded repentant. "It's been crazy lately. I've been meaning to call."

"I know, I'm sorry too. I didn't mean to snap." I heard him take a deep breath on the other end, and I knew he was waiting for me to get to the point of my call. I steeled myself, expecting to sound crazy. "Sam, I don't know how to tell you this, but Dean isn't dead."

"What do you mean?" I heard an edge of panic in his voice.

"He's here, at Pat's, with a short guy in a suit."

"What?" I heard something slam in the background. "Lacey, you need to get out of there."

"What? Why? I've got two more sets to go before we close."

"I mean it, Lacey, you need to get out of there. Dean isn't exactly himself. He's dangerous." My heart was racing as I was watching him sitting at the bar, sipping his drink.

"Okay, I'm heading home. I'll call you when I get there, okay?"

"Pack a bag. Enough for a few weeks. I'm going to text you an address." She heard an engine roar to life on the other end of the line. "Bring Birdie with you. I'll meet you there as soon as I can."

The line went dead and I got a text a moment later. The address was in Lebanon, which was about two hours north of Great Bend. I was starting to freak out. I had no idea what was going on, but the urgency in Sam's voice was enough to scare me into action. I stepped out of the storage room, and over to the stage, where I told Ben that I wasn't feeling well, and was going to head home. I refused to look over at Dean while I packed up my guitar and walked over to the bar to grab my purse.

Mickey saw me approach and met me at the end.

"You okay, kiddo? You look pale."

"I'm fine, just not feeling so hot. I think it might have been something I ate. You care if I dip out early?"

"No, sweetheart, that's fine. You get home and rest up." I nodded, and headed through the crowd, praying to escape unnoticed.

Luckily, the night was on the colder side, and I had decided to drive, instead of walking. I made it all the way to the cab of my truck, placing my guitar case inside, before I was stopped, with a big hand gripping my arm just above the elbow.

"Lexie, right?" His voice was deep, gravelly.

"Lacey," I turned to face him, looking braver than I felt. "Hey Dean. How are you?"

"Just great. Never better." He looked at the truck, then back at me. There was something menacing about his eyes. "Where are you going? The night is still young. Maybe you could join me inside for a dance and a drink."

"I appreciate the offer, Dean, but I'm not feeling well. Maybe some other time? The next time you're in town?"

"Yeah, maybe." He released my arm, and I climbed into the cab of the truck, starting it with a shaky hand.

"Oh, hey Lacey, before you leave," He grabbed my wrist through the open window, squeezing so tightly it brought tears to my eyes, and a small groan escaped my throat. "I have a message for my brother."

My eyes widened in fear that I could no longer hide. When he saw it, he smirked. A single tear rolled down my cheek and he reached up to brush it off, with unexpected gentleness, before he licked it off of his finger.

"Tell him to stop looking for me." He released my wrist, which was already turning from red to purple, and I threw the truck into gear, peeling out of the parking lot.

I was home within five minutes, and was running up the front porch stairs. Unlocking my door took longer than normal, thanks to my trembling hands.

Once inside, I grabbed my suitcase out of the closet and started throwing things in haphazardly. I now understood the urgency behind his warning, and had no desire to lollygag around Great Bend while his psychotic brother was here. I was packed up in no time, grabbing my phone charger off of the nightstand and threw it into my purse.

I grabbed Birdie's leash off of the hook in the wall, and called her to follow me. Walking back out to the truck, I threw my suitcase in the bed, and then my guitar, which I had left in the cab. Birdie hopped up in the open door, taking her spot in the passenger seat, while I turned around to lock the front door of the house.

I hopped into the driver's seat, starting the truck and rolled down the passenger side window for Birdie, and pulled out of the driveway, heading north.

A/N: The song at the beginning, because I have no talent for writing my own music, belongs to Elle King, and it's called " _See You Again."_ It's a beautiful song, and you guys should give it a listen. So, I have decided to give this a go as an actual story, if you couldn't tell by my posting another chapter. I'm not sure how often I'll get to update, though, so bear with me. As always, comments and love are much appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Once I drove into Lebanon, I pulled over to the side of the road to punch the address into my GPS.

"No results found." A sharp, British man informed me.

I checked the address against what Sam had sent me, and it was a match. So I tried again.

"No results found."

"Yeah, yeah, Jeeves. Stuff it." I shut off the device, and pulled back onto the road. According to my old map, this road would lead straight through the main part of town. After I found a landmark, I would just call Sam for directions.

I found the local diner easy enough, which was miraculously still open at two-thirty in the morning. I was dying for a cup of coffee, so I left Birdie in the truck and walked inside. I slid into a booth by the window, so I could keep an eye on the truck.

Once the waitress had come by for my order, I picked up my cell phone, looking for a signal to call out. I had to get up out of the booth and walk around the diner a bit before I found one.

"Are you okay?" Sam sounded worried. "I thought you would have been here by now."

"Well, I'm in Lebanon, but the address you gave me doesn't pull up on my GPS, so I'm at the diner in town."

"Shit, right, I'm sorry. We're kind of tucked away back here. Stay there, I'll come get you."

"Do you want me to order anything for you? I'm starving, so I was going to get breakfast."

"I'm good. Get it to go. I'll be there in ten." There was a car door slamming, then the phone call dropped. I tried to suppress my aggravation at getting hung up on, again.

He made it there in five, just as the waitress was dropping off my to-go box and the check. When he walked into the diner, he scooped me up in a desperate hug, holding me close. His face was covered in faint bruises, and he had a sling on his right arm.

"I'm so glad that you're okay." He kissed my lips, softly, and everything from the last five weeks was forgiven. He released me, throwing a twenty down on the table and grabbed my food. "Come on, you can follow me home."

"Are you going to tell me what's going on? What happened to you?"

"I'll explain as best as I can." He led me out the door, and to my truck.

I followed his taillights out of town and down a dark road leading into the woods. We drove for miles before he turned off, onto a driveway I would have missed if alone. He pulled into a large garage, and I parked my truck in the spot next to him. Inside the massive space were dozens of antique vehicles, all looking in pristine condition.

He grabbed my suitcase and guitar, leading me into a large room with vaulted ceilings and marble walls. It was incredible.

"What is this place?" I was looking around, awestruck, while Birdie sniffed her way around the room.

"Home."

"Wow." He was quiet, looking awkward, as he showed me around the gigantic space. We stopped in the kitchen, where he told me to eat.

I sat down at the table, grabbing the fork he handed me, and dug into my pancakes. Sam had grabbed a beer out of the antique looking fridge and was drinking it silently, watching me. About halfway through my meal, he noticed the prominent bruise on my wrist, and pulled my hand across the table softly.

"Lacey, did my brother do this?" His tone was clipped, and his eyes were alight with anger. My hesitation answered the question, and his gaze dropped to the table. "I'm so sorry. I didn't want you to get involved. It was stupid of me to think that I could keep you from all of this." He gestured around him with his hand, and I was completely lost.

"Sam, what's going on? Keep me from what?" My emotions were threatening to spill over. I was scared, frustrated at not knowing what was going on, and exhausted.

"I have no idea where to start." He stood up, grabbing a bottle of whiskey and two tumblers from the bar and returned to the table.

"Okay, let me guess. You're a CIA agent. This is your base of operations, and your brother has gone rogue." I rolled my eyes at myself. I've seen too many movies.

He chuckled a bit, and then looked me in the eyes, swallowing a gulp of the amber liquid.

"Actually, that's kind of close." He took a deep breath, steeling himself. My heart was racing in anticipation. "Do you believe in monsters?"

It was my turn to chuckle. I pushed my empty to-go box out of the way, and grabbed my own whiskey. When I saw that he wasn't laughing, I felt my temper flair up.

"You know, Sam, I've been pretty patient up until now. I was ordered to come up here, for my own safety, but from what? You won't tell me." I propped my leg up on the chair next to me, resting my arm on my knee. "So, let's cut the crap, and you tell me what it is you're _protecting_ me from."

"I'm trying to." He sighed, running his hands through his hair. "Now, do you believe in monsters? I know it sounds crazy. Indulge me."

"No, not really. What kind of monsters?" Birdie had walked up, placing her head on my lap, and I was scratching behind her ears, absentmindedly.

"Ghosts, vampires, werewolves, demons. Pretty much everything you were told that goes bump in the night." I fought the urge to stand up and walk away. I saw his look and tried to keep an open mind.

"Okay, so, what? They exist?" He nodded.

"Yes. And my brother and I hunt them." I started to say something, but he held up a hand, and I stopped, letting him continue. "We've been hunters most of our lives, because of our dad. When I was a baby, my mother was killed by a demon, and he spent my entire childhood hunting it down, to kill it. He dragged us all around the country looking for leads, killing monsters along the way. Dean took to this life so much more than I did. Dad and I never got along. I was never enough of a soldier for him." He stood up, turning his back to me. "I ended up leaving them when I was old enough to go to college. I went to Stanford, pre-law."

"I had no idea." My heart swelled with pride. "That's awesome."

"It didn't last, though. Being in this life, there's always something to suck you back in." He grabbed my hand, pulling me to my feet and led me out of the kitchen and down a long hallway. "I'll give you a tour of the bunker later, but I thought that you would want to get changed and relax. We can keep talking in my room."

We stopped at wooden door with a heavy iron emblem on it. I ran my finger over it before asking him what it was.

"It's the symbol for the Men of Letters. Dean and I, we're legacies. It's a secret society devoted to documenting all things supernatural in the world. Come on," he opened the door, placing a hand on my lower back and leading me into the room. He set my suitcase on the ground, and walked back out of the room to grab the whiskey, and give me time to change.

When he returned, I was wearing one of Sam's baggy t-shirts that he had left at my place on one of his previous visits, and a pair of track shorts. His eyes combed over my bare legs as he pulled a chair up next to the bed.

"Okay, so, what's going on with Dean? Why did he show up in Great Bend, all but threatening me? Is he the one that beat the crap out of you?"

"That's my fault, and I'm sorry." He looked truly remorseful. "Dean and I were on the trail of a really powerful demon, one of the first. There was only one weapon that could kill her; something called the First Blade. In order to wield it, Dean had to take on a curse of sorts. That curse eventually killed him. And no, this was someone else." He rubbed his bruised cheek absentmindedly.

The day he showed up at my house made a bit more sense now.

"Only, he didn't stay gone. He woke up a demon. And I've been trying to find him, to cure him, ever since."

My head was spinning. I wasn't even sure I was believing anything he was telling me. I knew that he wouldn't lie to me, but the idea of him being some sort of Ghostbuster just seemed ridiculous.

"Demons? Like Linda Blair, Exorcist demons?" I fought hard to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

"Yeah. Most demons possess humans, and we can exorcise them, using a Latin incantation and holy water. But not Dean. He's not possessed, he _is_ a demon. And from what I can gather, he wants to stay that way. But there is a cure. I tried it on Crowley, and came damn close, but Dean was worried that it was killing me, so we stopped. We were trying to seal the gates of Hell." He saw my look of confusion. "Crowley is the dick you saw with Dean. The guy in the suit. He calls himself the King of Hell."

"Sam," I started, rubbing my eyes wearily, "this all sounds,"

"Crazy? I know. But every word is true, I promise. And, I'll prove it to you, in the morning, after we both get some sleep." He stood up, gently removing the sling, pulling off his shirt and jeans, climbing into the bed next to me. There was a handprint shaped bruise above his elbow. Birdie walked a few circles on the rug by the bed, before settling down and falling asleep. He wrapped an arm around my side, pulling me against him, and whispered into my hair. "I'm so glad that you're okay."

I rolled over to face him, fingertips tracing small circles on his bare chest.

"What does this mean?" I lightly touched the tattoo.

"It's a symbol that prevents demonic possession." A scary thought came to my mind.

"Have you ever been possessed?" He nodded, sadly. My breath shuddered in my throat, and I curled my body against his. "I missed you, missed this. I love you."

"Love you too, Lacey."

As exhausted as I felt, sleep wouldn't come. My mind was reeling with everything that Sam had told me. After sitting and listening to his deep breathing for about an hour, I slowly snuck out of bed and out of the room to explore. After a few minutes of walking, I found what looked like a huge library. Floor to ceiling bookcases covered the walls, and comfy arm chairs and a table furnished the room. I stepped inside, running a finger down the spines of the first bookshelf I came to. None of the titles were in English. I pulled one at random, flipping through the pages, before I stopped at an old illustration of a giant black dog. I closed the text and placed it back in its spot, before moving across the room, to another bookshelf.

These were mostly in English, and I pulled one titled " _The Book of Forbidden Knowledge_ " and curled up in one of the armchairs that was placed in front of the fireplace. Thumbing through the pages, I realized that the book was about witches, and witchcraft. The book itself was very old, and had that wonderful "old-book" smell. There was no publishing page, so I couldn't even guess when it was printed.

I stayed in the library until after dawn, reading one book, after another, still unable to believe everything that I had learned. My eyes combed page after page until they grew so heavy, I couldn't keep them open.

I woke up, hearing noises from the kitchen nearby, with a blanket draped over my legs. I stretched my arms over my head, languidly, and stood up, putting the book back where I found it. I poked my head around the corner, investigating the sounds, and saw Sam standing over the stove, shirtless. Birdie was lying at his feet, looking up expectantly for him to drop the food he was cooking. I walked over quietly, wrapping my arms around his waist and placing my lips on his bare back.

"I see you found the library this morning." I peeked around him, seeing eggs and turkey bacon frying in a pan.

"Yeah, I couldn't sleep. Too much to process."

"You're taking all of this extremely well. When I woke up this morning, I thought you had taken off."

"I could never leave without saying anything." I bit my tongue, hating that I sounded accusatory. "I'm sorry, that sounded horrible."

He turned around, kissing my forehead.

"Nothing I don't deserve, Lacey. Hell, I've done it twice now." He turned back to the stove. "Hungry?"

"Famished." I asked him where the plates were and grabbed two, setting them on the table. "This place is seriously cool, by the way."

"Yeah, it is. We've got everything we need here. And, it's the first home we've really had." He joined me at the table, scooping food on both plates. "So, how are you feeling, about all of this?"

"Like you're still pulling my leg." I stated, after a bite of bacon. "All of those cars in the garage, are they yours?"

"Well, they belong to the Men of Letters, but since Dean and I are the last surviving members that we know of, yeah." I whistled.

"So, what other cool shit does this place have?"

"You've found the library, already. There's an armory and gun range in the basement, and the whole place is protected by Enochian sigils, to make it undetectable. Which is why your GPS couldn't find it."

"Enochian?"

"The language of the angels."

"Wait, angels are real too?" I dropped my fork, pushing my empty plate aside.

"Yeah, and for the most part, they're assholes. They have a huge chip on their shoulders when it comes to humans."

"These things that you hunt, you kill them?" My curiosity was outweighing my doubt for the moment.

"If they are a danger to anyone, yes. There are some creatures out there who don't hurt humans; that have found a way to live among them. We keep tabs on them from time to time, but for the most part, we leave them be."

I felt like I had reached my quota again, but I knew there was so much more story to hear.

"You promised me a tour."

"In a bit. I was going to head into town this morning and pick up some things. I noticed that you didn't pack any food for Birdie." My cheeks flared, and guilt welled up in my stomach.

"Ugh, no. I was in such a hurry to get out of there, I completely forgot. Mind if I join you? I need to get shampoo, too."

"I was actually going to ask you if you wanted to come along." He smiled at me, lacing his fingers through mine. I stood up, placing both of our plates in the sink and led him down the hallway to get ready. When I told him that I was going to hop in the shower, he surprised me by asking to join. I agreed, a bit too enthusiastically.

"Remember that song you were singing, when I saw you last?" His fingers were massaging his shampoo into my scalp.

I was glad that my back was to him, so he couldn't see my blush. I nodded.

"Was that one of yours? It didn't sound familiar."

"Yeah, I wrote it after you left with Dean." We switched places, so I could rinse my hair.

"You wrote me a song?" He seemed surprised, and flattered.

"It's not the first. I wrote one when we were kids, too. I was supposed to sing it at the talent show, as some ridiculously grand romantic gesture, but I couldn't." I hid my face, embarrassed at my confession. He pulled my hands down, looking into my eyes.

"Will you sing it for me?"

"If you're lucky," I winked, feigning confidence I wasn't feeling.

"What would improve my odds?" He leaned down, kissing me. He moved down to my neck, leaving hot trails of kisses as he went. My eyes fluttered shut, and I took a deep breath.

"That could help." His hands roamed over my body, pausing to massage my breasts, before going lower. One paused in between my thighs, lightly rubbing me.

"What about now?" He had a devilish smile plastered on his face. I nodded, forgetting how to speak for the moment. He continued to rub slowly until I whined out loud.

"Damn it, Sam, I'll sing whatever you want me to, just stop teasing me." I ground out, in a harsh whisper. He chuckled in response.

"Good to know." He reached behind him, turning off the water, and kissing me again. When we both had stepped out of the shower, and led me to his bed. Once I was laying down, he covered every inch of my skin with his lips.

Our first time together had been a rushed, desperate act. The second time was the exact opposite. He took his time, making sure to attend to my needs, and make up for lost time. We made love until my toes curled and my legs felt like jelly.

"Did I make up for last time?" His voice was quiet, as his lips brushed the skin below my right ear. I nodded, lazily.

"You more than made up for it." We were lying in his bed, wrapped up in the sheet, holding each other like we were one. We laid there, like that, until we heard Birdie whining pathetically from outside of the door. With a chuckle, I stood up and got dressed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

A/N: I was so excited to continue, that I powered through chapter four! Yeah, double posting! To ArtistKurai, thank you so much for the love! I hope this next chapter doesn't turn you off of Lacey. This reaction is a bit delayed to the whole "dark and scary" out there, and I tried to be as realistic as possible. I'm starting chapter five, but another update will probably be a few days away, thanks to being an adult and stuff. Anyway, again, enjoy!

We were walking just walking out of the local grocery store, talking and laughing, when a man wearing a suit approached us, the same man who was with Dean in Pat's the other night.

"Hello Bullwinkle," the man drawled in a British accent. "You miss me?"

I saw Sam reach behind him, and saw the glint of a large knife tucked into the back of his jeans. I wondered for a moment when he had put it there.

"Hello, love," the man who must be Crowley looked at me. "Who's this, Moose? Been holding out on us?" He winked. Sam looked around us to see that we were alone and drew the knife. Then he put his arm in front of me, pushing me behind him.

"Crowley," he growled the name.

"You want Dean. I'm here to give him to you."

"What?" He seemed surprised, but still suspicious.

"The little prat's bad for business." Crowley tucked his hands into the pockets of his black coat, looking unfettered. "He's uncontrollable. Must be the Mark." He shrugged.

I watched the two of them silently, trying not to draw any attention to myself.

"Anyway, Dean's your problem now, again. Forever."

"Where is he?" Sam's tone frightened me. I had never seen him so angry.

"First, there's a small matter of my finder's fee." He smiled, smugly. Sam lowered the knife, but didn't put it away. "I want the First Blade."

Sam looked like he was fighting some inner battle before he slowly nodded. He turned around to look at me.

"Lacey, get in the car." He handed me the keys, and I took off, trying not to run. With shaky hands, I was able to unlock the doors, throwing the bags of groceries into the back seat, before hopping in the front. I felt relatively safe behind the closed doors of the car, which I knew was stupid. If Crowley wanted in, I'm pretty sure a locked door wouldn't stop him. But, my curiosity got the best of me and I rolled down the windows, to listen in on the conversation.

"Beulah, North Dakota. You can hitch a ride with me, if you want. I could have you there in a jiff." Crowley smiled, eyes full of mirth.

"I'm good." Sam finally put the knife away. "You'll get the blade, after I get my brother." He turned around, stomping towards the car. I watched Crowley, who smiled at me, then winked, before vanishing into thin air. My heart skipped a beat, and I broke out into a cold sweat.

When Sam yanked the car door open, and started the engine, I was trying my hardest not to have a panic attack. He turned around to look at me, concern in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" I couldn't look at him. I was focused on the tree line on the other side of the road, while trying to keep my breaths even.

"Peachy. Just great." I didn't realize how hard I was shaking until he grabbed both of my hands. "I see someone evaporate into nothing every day."

"Babe, I know this is a lot, but I need you to hold it together for me for just a bit longer, okay?" I didn't acknowledge him, so he gently grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. "Just breathe. I'm going to need your help when we get back to the bunker."

The drive back was silent. I had found a way to keep myself grounded, by squeezing my fists so tight, that my nails bit into the palms of my hands. I had always been a relentless nail-biter, but even my short, chewed nails were breaking the skin. Little drops of blood were dripping from my fists onto my knees. Sam's reaction to this was unreadable, but I knew he must be worried, among so many other things.

Once we pulled back into the garage, he set all of the groceries out of the back seat onto the ground and led me down to the bunker's basement, into what looked like a storage room. He pulled two of the shelves aside, and before us stood a big room, empty except a chair sitting in the middle of a huge symbol painted on the floor.

Sam grabbed a duffel bag off of a shelf nearby and asked me to fill it with a few bottles of the water that were lined up to my left. He explained that it was holy water. Still shaking violently, I was able to put them in the bag, only dropping one. He left for a moment, then returned with a sawed-off shotgun and a box of shells.

"Are you going to kill him?" My voice was weak, barely above a whisper.

"No, these are loaded with salt. It'll just weaken him." He looked around for a moment, until he found a set of handcuffs and grabbed them, shoving them in his back pocket. "Lacey, I need you to listen to me, okay?" His voice adopted the tone of a patient parent, talking to a small child.

I nodded, trying to look him in the eyes.

"When I bring him back, I'm going to lock him in here and perform the cure. That symbol on the floor is called a Devil's Trap. He shouldn't be able to leave it, but once I'm back, I don't want you to come anywhere near here, okay?" He put a big hand on my cheek, using his thumb to brush a tear from my eyelashes.

He grabbed my hand, leading me back upstairs and to the garage. He threw the duffel bag into the trunk of the car and walked back over to me, hugging me tightly.

"Beulah's about eleven hours from here, so I should be back by tomorrow. I'll text you as soon as I'm on my way back." He kissed me, softly, which broke me out of my trance a bit. I grabbed both sides of his face, returning the kiss desperately.

"Be careful, please. Come back in one piece." He looked into my eyes, solemnly, before sliding into the car and starting the engine. Once he was gone, and the garage door closed again, I grabbed the discarded grocery bags and carried them into the kitchen, making two trips.

This was precisely what I needed to keep from falling apart. Menial tasks to keep me busy.

After I had put all of the groceries away, I decided to take Birdie for a run. I went back to Sam's room, changing into workout clothes and laced up my trainers. I snapped the leash onto her collar and headed out the door.

I only made it about a quarter of a mile, when I heard a noise from the bushes to my left. A pair of ravens flew out, cawing loudly, and set my heart racing again. I turned Birdie around and bolted back to the safety of the bunker. Once I was back inside, leaning against the cold, metal door, I slumped to the floor, letting my tears fall freely. I was back to shaking uncontrollably, and Birdie plopped down on the marble tile floor next to me, putting her head in my lap in an attempt to comfort me.

I stayed like that, sobbing on the floor, until I lost most of the feeling in my rear end. I sniffed loudly, wiping the snot from my nose on the back of my hand and stood up. I, then, wiped my hand on the seat of my leggings. Heading into the kitchen, I opened the fridge to grab the milk, but changed my mind, seeing the half-full bottle of whiskey from last night sitting on the counter. I rinsed one of the glasses in the sink, and filled it up.

The trembles in my hands had calmed considerably, but I still managed to spill a bit onto the open cuts on my palm from my fingernails, wincing at the burn. I cursed out loud, angry at how fragile I was acting.

I pulled my phone out of my jacket pocket, more out of having something to do, than really needing to use it, and saw that I had two missed calls, both from Pat's.

Shit, I was supposed to work today. I hadn't told Mickey that I was leaving. I was so fired.

I called the number back, and he answered on the second ring.

"Pat's. This is Mickey."

"Hey Mickey, it's Lacey. Sorry I missed your call."

"You okay, darlin'? You still sick?"

"No, I'm feeling better. Shoot, Mickey, I meant to call you earlier. I'm in Wichita. Something came up, family stuff, and I'm gonna be out of town for a bit taking care of it. I'm so sorry."

"Everything okay?" He didn't even sound upset, just concerned. I loved this man, like he was family.

"Yeah, as best as can be expected. I'll fill you in when I'm back home. I promise." That would buy some time to think of a plausible story in the meantime. Something told me that _I'm on the run from my boyfriend's demon brother_ wouldn't go over really well.

"Well, you take all the time you need, ya hear? Amber's been begging for more hours for weeks now, so I'll just have her pick up your shifts while you're gone."

"Oh God, don't let her sing! I won't have a job to come back to if she chases all your business away." We both shared a chuckle before saying goodbye.

I spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning. I washed the dishes from breakfast and put them away, then swept the floors, reorganized the items in the fridge and the pantry. All while drinking. It wasn't the most ideal way of dealing with my sudden influx of emotions, but hell, at least I wasn't crying anymore.

I avoided the library at all costs, having my fill of supernatural for the time being. My head was full of it, I didn't need any reminders. The moment that Crowley disappeared replayed in my head every time I closed my eyes and I fought like hell to keep my composure. I kept telling myself that I had to accept what I saw as real, and move past this weak damsel-in-distress routine. I even imagined my father chuckling at me, while lightly punching my shoulder, saying "Buck up, kiddo."

The quiet in the gigantic bunker started to eat at my raw nerves, and I pulled out my phone, turning on some music, before placing it back into my pocket and resumed cleaning. After every inch of the bunker, not including anything remotely supernatural, was cleaned and then cleaned again, I slumped against the wall, at a loss for what to do next.

I was never good with boredom. At home, this would be the perfect time to pull an old favorite from my bookshelf, and curl up next to the fire, losing myself in the story. Here, that wasn't possible. I walked down the hallway to Sam's bedroom, pulling my guitar out of its case and strummed the strings absentmindedly. I wanted to sing, but the lyrics to every song I had ever known suddenly escaped me. I didn't know what was to blame, the whiskey, or my currently fragile emotional state.

"I'm in love with a boy, who thinks guns are toys," I started adlibbing. "He gets broken, and beaten. And his brother's a demon." I started laughing at myself, feeling the hysterics start to bubble up again. I finished the whiskey that was in my glass, rage boiling up from nowhere, and threw the empty glass against the wall. Birdie, who was soundly sleeping at the foot of the bed, raised her head up at me, cocking it to one side. I imagined that she thought I was insane.

"Yeah, don't judge me, pup. It's been a long day." I grabbed her by the collar, leading her into the bathroom and closed the door, so she didn't cut herself while I cleaned up my mess. I picked up as many glass shards as I could, placing them in the waste basket by the desk, and then opened the door and carefully stepped over the rest so I could retrieve the broom.

The waiting was killing me. Sam had left about eight hours ago and it was dark outside. I was sitting in his bed, letting some show run in the background, while thousands of thoughts were running through my tired, drunk mind. I had finished the bottle earlier, and was working on a second one, and I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. I told myself, out loud because I had gotten to the point where I was talking to myself to fill the silence, that I needed to eat something, but I had no appetite.

The screen on my phone lit up, and I saw Sam's name on the caller ID. I answered it immediately.

"Are you okay?" I snapped out, worried to be hearing from him so early. He chuckled softly, and I heard the car engine in the background.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just thought that I would call to check up on you while on the road. How are you doing?"

"I'll live." I was forcing myself to sound as sober as possible. I didn't need him worrying about me, with what he was about to face. "I cleaned up a bit, and took Birdie for a walk. You know, keeping busy."

"Good. You should get some sleep. It's been a rough couple of days for you."

"You ain't kiddin', Winchester." I knew that my attempt at sobriety was failing. My southern drawl was a dead giveaway. He laughed.

"Well, I'm making better time than I thought, so I should be there by soon." I looked at my watch. It was after two in the morning. How had it gotten so late?

"You take care of yourself out there, okay?"

"You too. Get some sleep. I love you."

"Love you, too, babe." I hung up the phone first, setting it on the nightstand behind me. Sleep sounded like a fantastic idea, but the moment my head hit the pillow, the room started to spin and I ran to the bathroom, hanging my head over the toilet seat. Birdie joined me, sitting next to me while I vomited the contents of my near-empty stomach. When I looked up, she had a judgmental look in her yellow eyes.

"Oh, shut up, you." I stood up, rinsing my mouth in the sink, and splashing my face with the cold water. I filled up my whiskey glass with water, and popped a few aspirin that I had found in the medicine cabinet. I tried laying down again, the room still spinning, but I was confident that I was done getting sick and promptly passed out.

I woke up to a text from Sam, saying that he got Dean, and they were on their way back. He also asked me to lay down a line of salt down on the ground in front of the door, which confused me, and to not leave the room until he came to get me. I went out to the kitchen, grabbing the big box of salt, and did as he asked, ignoring the pounding in my head.

I crawled back into bed, throwing the covers over my head, relishing in the dark and the silence. I should have expected the hangover from hell after all the alcohol I drank yesterday. I was trying to sleep it off when I heard a door slam, followed by a struggle, and shouting. I sat up in bed, curling myself into as small a ball as possible. Birdie sat up from her spot on the floor, growling at the door, the hair on her neck standing on end.

"Birdie, come here girl. It's okay." I whispered over to her, patting the spot next to me on the bed. She jumped up, standing in front of me protectively, while still glowering menacingly at the door. I stroked her back, soothingly, trying to calm her. The sounds died down, and Birdie eventually settled, sitting on my lap, but her eyes never left the door. A few minutes passed, and then I jumped when I heard a knocking, followed by Sam's voice.

"Lacey, it's okay, you can unlock the door." I rose and opened it, throwing my arms around him.

"Are you okay? How's your brother?" He returned my hug, and then turned towards his closet, grabbing a dress shirt and khakis out and throwing them on the bed.

"He's chained up downstairs, pretty pissed off. I need to go get something, and I want you to come with me. I don't want you here alone with him."

"Yeah, sure." I grabbed a change of clothes out of my suitcase and threw them on. Sam was in the process of pulling on the dress shirt when he winced. I walked across the room to help him. It was obvious that his arm was still hurting him badly. Once he was dressed, I helped him put the sling back on and grabbed Birdie's collar. Sam looked at me, questioningly.

"I'm going to put her in the garage. She looked ready to kill when you brought him in. I want to put as much distance between her and that basement as possible."

"Okay, I'm going to go start the car." He planted a quick kiss on my forehead and left the room. The second we were out in the hallway, Birdie started freaking out again. It took all of my strength to keep a hold of her collar and pull her towards the kitchen.

"Baby girl, is that you?" I heard a deep voice shout out from the bottom of the stairs, and Birdie went quiet, ears flat against the back of her skull. I held my breath, frozen in place by my fear. "Come on, I know you're there. Bring me some water. I'm thirsty."

My heart was pounding and my legs began quivering as I stood in front of the metal door, leading to the basement.

"No need to be shy. I can hear you, smell you." Tears had begun to fall, dripping onto the marble floor.

Sam came running around the corner, putting a finger to his lips and grabbed my hand, pulling me down the hallway. Birdie dragged along behind us.

Once in the car, I let out a loud sob, holding myself tightly.

"Damn it!" He shouted, pounding his hand onto the steering wheel. "You're not safe here, not with him knowing that you're here. I'm taking you to the motel, until all of this is over."

"No, please," I whined, sounding absolutely pathetic. "Don't leave me alone!"

"Lacey, if anything were to happen to you." He couldn't finish, looking over at me with tears in his eyes.

I sniffed, forcing my emotions in check.

"But you said that he's locked up downstairs. I won't leave your room, I promise. I just don't want to be alone."

He groaned, rubbing his face.

"Fine," he said, throwing the car into gear. "But you're not leaving my room."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

We drove to the local hospital, where he parked, and asked me to stay in the car. He had held my hand the entire way, talking about nonsense to help us both get our minds off of the present. Because of that, I had calmed considerably. I was actually starting to feel numb about the whole ordeal.

Wishing that I had brought Birdie along, I fiddled with the knobs on the radio, trying to find a good station to listen to. After a moment, I found the local classic rock station, and started jamming along to Led Zepplin. Music helped me pass the time, as I belted out lyrics to songs I grew up listening to. I may have even brought out the air guitar on a few. By the time Sam got back to the car, carrying an organ donor cooler, I was feeling much more like myself.

I smiled at him, as he climbed in the car, placing the cooler in the floorboard between my feet.

"Is that someone's heart?" My eyes were wide.

"No, it's blood, blessed by a priest." He seemed like he was feeling a bit better too, but I could still see the tension behind his eyes. "In order to cure Dean, I have to inject him with it while reciting Latin rites." He pulled his phone out of his pocket, turning down the radio. "Cass, I'm getting ready to start. Are you close?"

I heard a man's voice, gruff and deep, on the other line.

"Okay, just get here as soon as you can. Thanks man."

"Cass?" I asked, as soon as he had hung up.

"A friend. He's going to help with Dean."

We were back at the bunker in no time, and he led Birdie and me to his room, stopping first at the kitchen to grab food. I hadn't eaten anything in over twenty-four hours, and it was starting to get to me.

"I'm going to lay down more salt, just in case, okay? Lock the door behind me." I nodded, and he kissed me quickly.

"Go get 'em, tiger." I slapped him on the rear, smiling.

"I'm glad to see you're feeling better." He chuckled, then pulled the door closed. He opened it again, immediately. "There's a knife, and holy water, under my bed. Keep them with you."

Once I heard his footsteps trail away from the door, I got down on my hands and knees to locate the items he had told me about. The jug of holy water was easy enough to find, but the knife took a minute longer. I had to use the flash on my cell phone before I saw it, wedged into the slats of the bedframe. I pulled it down and inspected it.

The word knife was an understatement. The blade was at least as long as my forearm and was finely sharpened. It reminded me more of a machete. I held it in my hand, but it was awkward. I placed both on the nightstand next to me and turned on the TV, returning to the show I had put on the night before.

I kept the time by counting the hour-long episodes, and I was three in, before I heard anything. Dean was shouting so loudly, that I could hear him from all the way in the room. The hairs on my arms rose to goose pimples and I shook off a feeling of dread. Birdie was back to pacing in front of the door, her lips pulled up in a menacing snarl.

I walked over to her and kneeled down until I was in between her and the door. Grabbing her face, I kissed her nose, and pet her until the shackles on her neck relaxed.

"It's okay, girl. It's gonna be okay. He's just sick." I heard a door slam, and immediately ran to the nightstand to grab the knife. When I heard Sam's voice in the hallway, I relaxed.

"No, not very well. Dean, he's in pain, in bad pain." There was a pause. "This isn't like with Crowley. Cass, I might be killing him."

I could hear him pacing up and down the hallway.

"So, should I stop?" Another pause. "Cass, did you not hear what I just said? I could be killing my brother."

Tears started forming in my eyes, as my heart broke for Sam.

"Killing my brother." Hearing the defeated tone in his voice, I leaned against the door, but didn't open it. "Yeah, okay, I'll leave the entry unlocked for you. Just hurry."

"Sam, are you okay?" I asked, wishing I could go out there and wrap my arms around him.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just not going as well as I expected." He sounded so close, like he was leaning against the door too. "Listen, I've got to get back down there, okay?"

"Okay. Be careful." I listened to his boots tread back down the hallway, then back down the stairs. I was too amped up to go back to watching TV, so I sat on the floor, beside the bed, singing softly, while petting my very agitated dog. Before I could finish the song, I heard the basement door close again and went to the door, placing my ear against the cold wood.

The sound of heavy boots hitting the tiles almost made me open the door, ready to comfort Sam, but something made me hesitate. The footsteps sounded different, heavier, and my heart started racing. Birdie stood up, ready to growl, and I grabbed her by the neck, pulling her into the bathroom. I grabbed the knife and the holy water and slowly closed the bathroom door. Once inside, I curled up on the floor with her, holding her and praying that she would be quiet.

Outside, I heard doors opening and closing down the hall, and then silence. There was a clatter from the kitchen, and I had to clap my hand over my mouth to keep from crying out. Birdie somehow understood my urgency for silence, and had stopped growling. Instead, she stepped in between the door and myself, tail between her legs.

"Come on, Sammy!" I heard Dean shout, from somewhere near the kitchen. "Don't you want to hang out with your big brother? Spend a little quality time?"

I realized now that Dean had somehow escaped, and I was terrified. There was more silence, followed by heavy footsteps right outside of the door. Then a loud band as Dean kicked in the door.

"Salt? You must be hiding your little mouse in here! Wonder if she wants to play?" He shouted down the hallway. The lights went out, and alarms started going off.

"Smart Sam." The voice had turned away, and I realized that Sam was the one that cut the power. "Locking the place down. Doors won't open, I get it." He was starting to walk away, and I took a shaky breath, clenching the knife tightly between white knuckles. "But here's the thing. I don't wanna leave! Not till I find you." There was a sound down the hallway, and I cried silently, hoping Sam was hiding.

"Sammy!" Dean's shouts were very faint now, and I allowed myself to relax a bit. I took deep breaths until my heart stopped hammering, and the knife in my hand stopped shaking. After a few minutes of silence outside, the lights came back on, and I prayed that it was over; that Dean was locked safely back in the basement.

I pushed Birdie into a sitting position, and opened the bathroom door, knife still in hand. Leaning against the bedroom door, I heard Sam's voice faintly across the bunker.

"Listen to me, Dean! We were getting close, okay? I know you're still in there, somewhere. Just let me finish the treatments."

There was a loud thud, and it took everything I had not to open the door and run to him. The first bang was followed by many more, in between Dean's muffled voice. I strained to try to make out what he was saying, but they were too far away.

"Dean, stop that! Now, I don't want to use this blade on you!" I heard Dean laugh, and the sound of wood clattering to the floor. "Look, if you come out of that room, I won't have a choice!"

"Sure you will!" I heard him clearly that time. There was more banging, and I had a feeling that Dean was trying to break down a door. There were a few final thuds, and then footsteps running towards the hallway. "Sammy?"

He was free again, I was sure of it. I hid in the corner of the room, behind the TV, holding the knife in both hands. I was back to shaking again.

Dean's voice grew closer and closer, taunting Sam out of hiding. After a moment of silence, I heard him call me.

"Baby girl! Come help me find Sammy!" He sounded so close, and I was back to clamping my mouth shut. "I won't hurt you. Pinkie promise!"

My silence seemed to enrage him.

"Sam, if you don't come out here, I'm going to flay your little girlfriend alive! After I've had a little fun with her."

I heard a loud thud on the wall behind me, feeling it shake against my back, and I whimpered out loud.

"Well, look at you." Dean's voice was right outside of the bedroom door, and I panicked, thinking that he could see me. "Do it. It's all you." There was the sound of a struggle outside, Dean grunting loudly.

"It's over," a man said, his voice unknown to me. "Dean, it's over."

Dean growled, an inhuman sound, and I heard Birdie whimper from the bathroom. He continued to grunt, as the footsteps headed back towards the basement.

I couldn't move from my hiding spot, even after Sam came to knock on the door, telling me that it was over.

"Lacey, are you okay?" The desperate tone in his voice woke me from my trance and I slowly stood up, walking over to the door, knife still in my hand.

The relief on his face was evident as I cracked open the door, and he threw his arm around my shoulders, pulling me against him. I breathed in his smell, letting the knife clatter to the floor. He led me out of the room and into the kitchen, sitting me down across from a man in a suit and trench coat. He returned, draping a blanket over my shoulders and setting a glass of whiskey in front of me.

I gulped it greedily, watching as he refilled the glass.

"How's he doing?" The man asked Sam.

"He's uh, still a little out of it. But better, I think." He paused, placing a hand on my shoulder, before stepping closer to Suit. I didn't have a name for him, so Suit was going to have to work. "I mean, I think this whole thing, the blood cure, and the, all of it, really wrecked him, you know?"

"Yeah," Suit agreed, looking away.

"On the plus side, he's hungry again, so I'm gonna go pick him up a big ole bag of crap food and uh, stuff it in his face myself."

Suit looked at me, then back at Sam, almost as if he had just realized I was sitting there.

"You mind keeping an eye?" I couldn't tell if Sam was referring to his brother or me. Maybe he meant both. "Lacey, I want you to stay here with Cass." Right, Cass. I should have guessed. "I think you might be in shock." I nodded, letting him kiss me on the forehead.

"Yeah," Cass agreed, nodding. Sam turned to leave. "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"You realize that one problem is solved, but one still remains. Dean is no longer a demon, that's true. But the Mark of Cain, that he still has and sooner or later, that's going to be an issue."

"You know what, Cass. I'm beat, man. One battle at a time, you know?" He chuckled, but there was no humor behind it. "I'm just gonna go grab my brother some cholesterol. And then I'm gonna get drunk, and curl up with my girl. Okay?" I smiled a little, patting his hand before he walked away. Cass nodded, looking sad.

Once alone, he and I fell into an awkward silence.

I poured myself another drink, before taking a stab at conversation.

"So, Cass, are you another hunter?"

"No, I am an angel of the Lord." I thought that he might have been kidding. If he was, his sarcasm was on point. "If you are in shock, or injured, I can heal you." He started to walk towards me, two fingers pointed out, but I held up my hand, trying not to show how freaked out I was.

"I'm good, really. Starting to feel better already."

"Right. Sam did tell me that you were new to this life. My apologies. I didn't mean to frighten you." He stepped back. "I should go check on Dean. Will you be okay if I left you alone?"

"Sure, right as rain."

"There is nothing right about rain. Or wrong. It is just rain." And with that, he walked away.

I sat at the table in silence, sipping my liquor, and processing the events of the past two days until Sam returned, a greasy bag of fast food in one hand, and a six pack in the other.

"Let me give this to Dean, and then we'll go to bed, okay?"

I nodded, grabbing the bottle of whiskey and carrying it back into the room. I let Birdie out of the bathroom, feeling guilty when I saw the yellow puddle on the floor.

"Aww, I'm sorry, baby girl." I mopped it up with a towel, then rinsed the floor with water from the sink. I changed clothes behind the bathroom door, and then crawled onto the bed.

Sam joined me a moment later, sitting on the bed. He wasn't wearing the sling anymore, and his arm didn't seem to be hurting as he removed his shirt.

"Your arm?"

"Yeah, Cass took care of it for me. He told me that he offered to heal you too, and it frightened you. I should have warned you, I'm sorry."

"Is he really an angel?" He nodded.

"We're lucky he got here when he did. Another minute, and I don't know what would have happened." He shuddered, crawling into the bed, under the covers with me.

I curled under his outstretched arm, resting my cheek against his bare chest.

"How are you doing? You've been so worried about me, that I haven't really asked you."

He sighed, kissing the top of my head.

"Right now, I'm great. It's been a long road, and we're not at the end yet. But today, that was a win that we needed." He paused, rubbing my arm with his thumb. "Dean feels awful, about all of the things he said and did. He asked me to apologize for him."

"That wasn't really him, right? It was the demon."

"Yeah."

"Then, all is forgiven." I sounded so convincing, I almost believed it myself. Deep down, I knew that it wasn't him, but I was still a bit scared. If I didn't feel like Sam needed me with him, I probably would have packed up and headed home.

He took a heavy drink from his whiskey.

"Lacey, I'm really sorry that you got thrown into all of this. But I'm happy that there's no more secrets." He looked down at me, pulling my chin up so I would look into his eyes. "Do you think, now that you know, that this is something that you can accept?"

"It's heavy, babe, really heavy. But none of this changes the way I feel about you. If nothing else, it helps me understand the mystery of Sam Winchester." I threaded my fingers through his, kissing his knuckles. "Just give me some time to adjust, okay? Don't start taking me on your road trips or anything."

He laughed.

"You don't have to worry about that. I'm never taking you hunting with me. I love you too much, to put you in that kind of danger."

"Tell me about one of your hunts."

We stayed up all night, drinking the rest of the whiskey, while he told me stories of his past cases, falling asleep sometime after the sun had risen over the horizon.

A/N: Intense chapter, so some post-Deanmon fluff is due.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

A/N: Whew, so that last chapter was dramatic. I am LOVING the feedback I'm getting! And over 400 views? Wow! Thank you guys so much! Between work, and drama with life in general, I've been suffering from a major bout of writer's block. I normally don't write fanfiction, but I got this idea out of nowhere, and it took off on its own. Even if it's not something I could ever try to publish, it sure is nice to sit down and not have to try so hard to make the words come out. Song mentioned below is Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'". Anyway, fluff delivered, as promised. Enjoy!

Everyone rose late the next day, a little after noon, looking pretty well rested, considering the ordeal from the night before. The three of us congregated in the kitchen, Sam and I offering to make breakfast.

I expected the whole scene to be awkward, but after Dean apologized, and I could see the sincerity in his eyes, all the tension lifted, and we were able to loosen up. Dean opened up Sam's laptop, playing some Journey, and I danced in front of the stove, stirring the scrambled eggs.

"Don't stop believin', hold on to that feelin'!" I sang into the spatula, making Sam chuckle behind me. He kissed my shoulder blade, taking the utensil from me.

"Sit down, Sinatra, I've got this."

Birdie came padding out from Sam's room, the last to wake up, and walked over to Dean, sniffing his boots.

"Really, Sammy? I'm gone for a month, and you shack up and get a dog?" He looked down at her, as she raised a paw up for a shake. I giggled.

"She's mine. When Sam told me to come, I couldn't leave her behind. Don't worry, she's housetrained." I winked at him. "Come on girl, you wanna go outside?"

Birdie whined, upset that Dean was ignoring her. When she saw the leash in my hand, she reluctantly left him. We left the boys, heading towards the door. When we returned, she walked right back up to Dean, sitting by his feet.

"Looks like you've got a new friend." Sam smiled, taking a bite of his eggs.

"Great." He rolled his eyes, but reached down and scratched her ears. Content for the moment, she wandered over to her food dish, eating breakfast too. "She stays out of my room, and she's not riding in Baby."

"I think we can handle that. We'll be out of your hair soon anyway."

"You're leaving?" Sam asked, surprised.

"Well, now that the Big Bad is taken care of, I figured that you boys wanted some time to recoup." I scooped a bite of eggs into my mouth. "I don't want to impose, while you guys have catching up to do."

"You're no imposition." Dean surprised me by objecting first. I had expected it from Sam.

"Lacey, you don't have to leave right away. Cass said things were quiet, and we could use some r and r. Stay for a few days, at least." The look in his eyes made my heart melt. "These last few weeks have been crazy. Let me make it up to you."

"Well, okay. I already told Mickey that I'd be out of town for a bit. Why not?" I leaned over and kissed him.

"Ugh, guys, I'm eating here." Dean feigned disgust. He finished the last bite of his food, pushing his plate forward and taking a gulp of orange juice. Birdie walked over, placing her big head in his lap. He just looked down and rolled his eyes.

"Well, at least I won't be the third wheel." Sam and I both chuckled, gathering the empty plates, as he hid his hand under the table, sneaking her a piece of bacon.

Sam suggested that we all go out for a run, which Dean vehemently rejected.

"I'm game. Let me get changed."

The two of us, now wearing our workout clothes, with Birdie in tow, headed outside, and broke off into a sprint. Birdie was chomping at the bit to stretch her legs, and she was tugging me along by the leash. We ran for about an hour, until both of us were out of breath and covered in sweat.

"Let's walk back." He nodded at my suggestion, stopping for a moment to catch his breath, before grabbing my hand and turned around.

"I'm glad you're staying with us. I wasn't ready to see you leave yet."

"Me too." I stopped for a moment to tie a loose shoelace. "Hey, do you guys have a grill?" He shook his head. "Oh, I was thinking about cooking dinner for you guys tonight."

"We can go into town and pick one up. It'll get used around here, that's for sure." We got to the door of the bunker and Birdie scratched at the door. "Actually, I was thinking about seeing if Dean was up for a night out. We've got a great little dive bar in town, and it serves one of his favorite cheeseburgers."

"That sounds good. I think we could all use a night out." We walked straight to the kitchen to grab water, before I excused myself to shower.

When I came back, Sam was in the kitchen alone, cleaning a gun.

"Where's Dean?" He started snapping all of the pieces back together, and I was fascinated at how quickly he was doing it.

"He's out in the garage, washing the car. That thing is his pride and joy, and he kind of trashed it while he was, well, not himself."

"Paying penance?" He nodded, smiling and setting the gun down on the table. "Is Birdie out there with him?"

"Yeah, she won't leave his side. It's cute." He stood up, wrapping his arms around me.

"Does he not like dogs?" He shook his head, and I felt guilty, having her here, in his home. "She's a ham for attention. It's probably driving her mad that he doesn't absolutely love her like everyone else does. Maybe she's just waiting for him to come around."

"He will. I think he already is. He was sneaking bacon to her at breakfast." I giggled, kissing his neck. "Dean wants to go out tonight. I'm going to go hop in the shower."

He walked off, down the hallway towards his room, and I headed out to the garage to make sure Birdie wasn't driving him crazy.

"Hey, want some help?" I bent down to pick up a wet sponge out of the soapy bucket.

"Sure," He looked awkward.

I started working on the back of the car, washing in large circles to remove all of the road dust that had collected. Birdie was laying on the ground, about six feet from Dean's feet, sleeping soundly.

"I actually came in to make sure she wasn't bothering you. I had no idea you didn't like dogs. I'm sorry." I smiled. "I can leave her with my boss next time I come to visit."

"No, she's okay. She's a good dog." He paused for a moment, looking pensive. "So, we haven't scared you off yet? With all the monster crap?"

"Nope, can't get rid of me that easily, Winchester." I smiled at him. "It's a lot to take in, sure. When I saw Crowley disappear in front of me, I thought I was losing it. But, if there's one thing that yesterday showed me, is that you guys are kind of like superheroes. You do this to help people." I stopped to rinse my sponge. "It must be a thankless job."

He grunted in agreement.

"Is it hard?"

"Not right now," he looked down between his legs and replied, a flirty expression on his face. I screwed my face up in a grimace. He laughed and then continued, seriously. "It's not a cake walk. But, it has its moments. Driving around the country, seeing the sights, hustling pool to pay the bills, dive bar beer and cheeseburgers; it's enough for me."

"Sounds awesome. Like a road trip that never ends." We had just finished washing the exterior, and Dean grabbed the hose to rinse. "And what a car to do it in."

"Yeah, she's great."

"Great? Don't undersell a car this sexy!" I gestured with my arms. "They don't make them like this anymore."

He looked over at me, an eyebrow raised.

"No, they don't. You know cars?"

"Enough. My dad didn't want to raise a princess, so he made sure I knew how to be self-sufficient. Taught me how to change the oil in a car before he taught me to drive." I caught the towel he tossed at me, and began to dry the hood of the car. Dean had to reach the middle, because I wasn't tall enough.

"Move it, shorty. I got this."

We worked in silence, until the car was dry and pristine.

"Hey," I turned to him, solemnly. "I just wanted to tell you how happy I am that you're okay. I know that we don't really know each other that well, but Sam loves you. That puts you pretty close to the top of my importance list."

He gave me a weird look, and there was sadness in his eyes. I instinctively went in for a hug. He hesitated, before throwing an arm around my shoulder, indulging me for a moment.

"Alright, enough with this touchy-feely crap." He left the garage, and I chuckled to myself, waking Birdie and leading her inside behind him.

After a few minutes of my begging, Sam finally took me on a tour of the bunker. I had found most of the places myself during my explorations, but I didn't tell him that. It was heartwarming, holding his hand as he led me around, hearing him talk about something he was obviously so proud of. When we got to the gun range, I surprised him by asking to try it out.

"Okay, safety's here," he indicated with his thumb. He was standing behind me, arms around me, showing me the proper way to hold the pistol. Another thing I didn't tell him was that my dad had also taught me how to shoot, being a police officer. But I would never turn down an excuse to be in his arms, so I feigned ignorance. "Lock your elbows, and look down the sights at your target. Take a breath, shoot, and then release."

I fired off six shots rapidly, hitting the paper target's torso every time. Two of the bullets went through the heart.

"You just hustled me." I grinned at him. "Your dad taught you."

I nodded, laughing. I lowered the earplugs and set the gun down on the board in front of me, before turning in his arms.

"How are your parents? You never talk about them." He saw my gaze drop. "Lacey, I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"It's okay. It's why I moved to Great Bend. They died in a car accident a few years back. I don't talk about it a lot." He tilted my head up, brushing my cheek with his thumb. He leaned down to kiss me, gently. I raised my arms up around his neck, pulling him closer to me, as I returned the kiss enthusiastically.

He pulled back, looking at me questioningly, when my fingers lowered, unbuttoning his flannel shirt.

"Here?"

"Maybe the smell of gunpowder just does it for me." I smirked and he laughed. "Lock the door."

We made it to the bar around eight, all ordering beer and cheeseburgers. I looked around at my surroundings, suddenly missing Pat's. It was so similar, it was eerie, but I've noticed that everywhere has a bar just like this; dark, smells a little funky, and has cheap beer on tap.

"So, what do think of my little slice of paradise?" Dean asked, winking at the waitress who had dropped off our drinks.

"Feels like home." I smiled, sipping my beer.

The boys started chatting, making small talk, and I excused myself to go check out the jukebox. The selections were about five years out of date, but I didn't care. There was a ton of oldies, most of which I performed at Pat's. I had always had a soft spot for the classics, so I dropped five dollars in, lining up our music queue for at least an hour.

The food made it to the table really quickly, and the smell of the burgers was enough to make my mouth water.

"Ugh, this smells amazing."

"Take a bite, Shorty. Life-changing." Dean took his first bite, which ended up being a third of the huge burger, and smiled. Sam laughed, before starting his. I wrapped my hands around the gigantic sandwich, and took my first bite. He was right, it was life-changing.

"I'm never going to be able to eat a cheeseburger anywhere else, without a pit of disappointment. This is by far, the best one I've ever had."

Sam looked over at me, chuckling, before handing me a napkin. I looked confused, and he gestured to his lip. I blushed, wiping the ketchup smear off of my face.

We ate the rest of our food in silence, signaling to the waitress for another round when we were all low. Dean finished first, standing up and walking over to the pool tables in the back. Once Sam and I had finished, we joined him. He had just started a game with a girl. She had long brown hair, and was wearing really short cut-off jeans, despite the cold outside. Her friend was sitting against the wall, looking pouty.

"Hey, wanna play teams next game?" I asked, introducing myself to Gretchen, and her quiet friend Beth. Dean agreed, and I sat down next to Beth, striking up a conversation. Sam was watching his brother flirt with the brunette. I found out that both girl's, babies in my eyes, were only twenty-three. Beth had grown up here, and was here visiting her family on break from Kansas State University. She had brought her roommate with her, who she thought was gorgeous in comparison to herself, and was jealous that Gretchen was getting all of the attention.

I guess the stereotype about bartenders being part-time therapists was true.

I listened, while she talked, and smiled as I doled out a bit of motherly advice, then told her to perk up and bought her a beer, leading her over to the pool table. Dean looked over at me, talking to her, and winked.

"You just made Dean's night," Sam whispered in my ear, sending chills down my spine. I looked up at him, questioningly. "You are, in his eyes, the perfect wingman now."

I laughed, shaking my head.

"I can't help it. I'm friendly! I do this for a living, sheesh."

I asked Sam to sit out for a round, so Beth could be my teammate and feel included, and we played a game, then she switched out with Sam. By the time the next round of beers came, she seemed to be having an infinitely greater time.

A slow song came on the jukebox, one I had forgotten that I picked, and Sam smiled, before grabbing my hand, pulling me a few feet away from the pool table.

"Dance with me." He placed a hand on my back, grabbing my right hand with his left, and started swaying. I leaned against him, laying my head on his chest, and followed his lead. "I wish you didn't have to leave."

I looked up at him, wondering what had sparked that particular thought.

"I'm not leaving yet. I'll probably stay the weekend, and then head back on Monday."

"I know. This long-distance thing is harder than I thought it would be." I had to laugh a bit. He made it sound like we lived on separate sides of the country.

"I don't think we're doing such a bad job of it. Look at us, we've overcome incredible odds, and we're happy. Yes, it's hard, not seeing each other every day, but we make it work."

"And what if I want to see you every day?" I felt an even bigger question looming behind that one, and placed a hand on his chest.

"Sam, excuse me if I'm being presumptuous, but it's too early for any kind of talk like that, okay?"

He laughed at the fear in my voice.

"Too early? I've known you half of my life."

"We've been together for two months of that. Too early, Winchester. You go ahead and pull the reins on that type of thinkin' right now." I heard my drawl make an appearance and knew that I had just been fired as designated driver.

"Okay, okay," he threw his hands up, chuckling. "Just know, that if you ever decided that it wasn't too early, the offer stands."

We stayed until last call, all of us enjoying ourselves immensely. I handed Dean the keys to the impala looking contrite. I was almost mad at myself for throwing away the opportunity to drive such an amazing car, but I figured that there would be another chance, and I wouldn't blow it a second time.

Dean had gotten Gretchen's number, but didn't go home with her. When I asked why, he laughed.

"I don't shit where I eat." When I looked confused, he elaborated. "This is too close to home. Don't want the girl falling in love or anything. I'd never get rid of her."

I laughed out loud and Sam shook his head.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

"It's just a precaution. I want to make sure that you're safe when I'm not here." Sam had just finished warding my house with sigils and what he called hex bags hidden all over the place.

"Sam, I've lived in this house for four years and nothing has happened. I think I'll be okay." I was laughing, but deep down, I thought the sentiment was heart-warming.

"Yeah, but Crowley saw you, knows that you're important to me." He stopped, putting his hands above both of my elbows. "We may be working together, but I don't trust him."

"Okay," I conceded, hugging him. A scary thought came to my mind. "Do you really think that I could be in danger?"

"I'm not taking any chances. I've lost someone I cared about to this life. I can't lose you too."

His confession surprised me. I looked up, into his eyes, and for a second, I saw so much pain. But as soon as it appeared, it was gone. He kissed my forehead and pulled a gun out of the back of his jeans.

"Keep this with you. Just in case, okay?" I nodded.

"You know, you could stay here tonight, leave in the morning, if you wanted." He smiled, running his fingers through my hair.

"As tempting as that sounds, I shouldn't leave Dean alone for too long. We still have a lot of research to do about his condition."

I walked him to the door, Birdie following close behind. He bent down to scratch her back, patting her haunches.

"Well, drive safe, okay? Call me when you get home."

"It'll be late."

"I'll be up, don't worry." I kissed him, putting my arms around his neck.

"Okay, I'll call." He smiled. "Until you're sick of me."

"Not possible." He kissed me again, and headed to his car. I watched him drive off, expecting it to hurt less this time, but it didn't.

After opening my eyes to the supernatural, the distance got increasingly more difficult. My imagination ran wild every time he told me that they were heading off on a hunt, my mind always fearing the worst. But he always shared with me what was going on, sparing me as many details as possible.

He stopped by for a visit every chance he got, which wasn't often, but it made us enjoy the time together that much more. Over the past three months, I had fallen into a pretty regular pattern. Recording in my studio, work, and a phone call from Sam before bed; rinse and repeat. It was an odd arrangement, but it worked for us.

I threw my keys on the table, yawning audibly, and shrugging off my heavy jacket. It was almost March, but a freak snow storm had blown in, dropping the temperature to below freezing. I had just gotten off work, early, due to the bar closing on account of the weather.

"Birdie?" She was usually right at the door to meet me. Tonight, she was absent. I walked through the house, looking for her, and started to panic when I couldn't find her. After checking the house and the back yard, I put my coat back on, wrapping a scarf around my neck and walked out the front door with a flashlight to check for prints.

I found her trail easily, with the snow stopping just before I had gotten home. I followed it on foot, calling her name, it leading back towards town. I found myself back in front of Pat's, where Mickey was just locking up, Birdie standing next to him.

"There you are!" I ran up to the pair, clipping the leash onto her collar.

"I was just about to drive her back home. She just showed up, whimpering and scared."

"Thank you, Mickey. I don't know what's gotten into her. She's never run off before."

He started to say something, when she turned and started growling, pointing her whole body towards the dark alley between the bar and the bank.

"Come on Birdie, let's go home." I pulled on her leash a bit, but she wouldn't move. "Puppy, I'm not playing with this game. Time to go."

She lowered herself, snarling into the darkness, and my heart began to race.

"Mickey, it's late. You should get upstairs."

"Let me drive you." Normally, I would say no, enjoying the walk home, but the way the night had unfolded left me a bit shaken, and I took him up on his offer.

After a considerable effort, I had dragged Birdie over to his old Buick and loaded her into the back seat. The drive home was quick, and quiet.

"Thanks for the ride, Mickey. And for finding her."

"No problem, darlin'. You get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow."

"You too, Mick."

I walked inside the house, removing Birdie's leash and hanging it on the wall. I knelt down in front of her, looking into her eyes. She seemed to be back to normal, so I let her go, and she headed into the bedroom. I locked the door and followed her. I changed into my pajamas and sent a text to Sam to let him know that I was home. His response came a few minutes later.

" _Hey babe, we've got our hands full tonight. We're okay. Can I call you in the morning?"_

I replied with a yes, and laid down, falling asleep almost immediately.

The next morning, I woke up and changed, getting ready for a run. The cold was refreshing, and I loved the bite on my cheeks as Birdie and I ran into town. I turned the corner, coming up to the street that the bar was on, and stopped short at the sight in front of me.

There were three police cruisers and an ambulance parked in front of Pat's. The whole corner was roped off with yellow police tape and there was a crowd of people gathered around it. I jogged up to the scene, my breath clouding in front of my face.

"They say his throat was ripped open. Some kind of animal attack."

"What kind of animal could do that?"

I listened to the onlookers for a few minutes, hiding in the back of the crowd, trying to figure out what had happened. then, the crowd parted just as the paramedics were loading a gurney carrying a body bag into the back of the ambulance. There was Charlie Gibbons, the chief of police, talking to a man in a suit, and they were standing next to a familiar Buick, driver side door ajar. My heart dropped.

I plowed my way to the front of the crowd.

"Charlie, what happened?"

"Lacey, I'm so sorry." He looked down at his feet, and the other man excused himself. "It's Mickey. There was an accident last night."

"No," my hand flew up to my mouth. "I just saw him last night. It couldn't be!"

Tears were starting to cloud my vision.

"You mean, you saw him after you closed the bar?"

"Yeah, when I got home, I noticed that Birdie had run off, and I followed her trail here. Mickey had found her and was about to bring her home."

"And you left him here?" I shook my head, feeling the shock fall upon me.

"No, he drove me home."

"Do you remember seeing anything? He was attacked here, before he could get upstairs."

"No, I didn't see anything. But Birdie was acting strangely all evening. She never runs off. And when I found her, she was growling, that way." I pointed into the alley. Charlie looked down the alley, and then back at me.

"I'm really sorry that you had to find out this way. I was going to stop by your place later and break the news." He put a hand on my shoulder. "Why don't you head home, and I'll call you if we hear anything, okay?"

Before I could respond, the radio on his shoulder went off, calling out a 10-54, and Charlie shook his head, looking weary.

"This is why I live in a small town. Stuff like this never happens. Excuse me, Lacey." He turned around, responding to the radio before pulling one of his deputies over. "We've got another one, off of Mills. Take Johnson and go check it out."

I turned around, trying to cut through the crowd that seemed to have doubled while talking to Charlie. Each of them had a sympathetic look on their faces, and a few patted me on the shoulder, offering words of condolences.

That's the thing about small towns. Everybody knew everybody. And everyone knew how much Mickey meant to me.

I was numb, walking back to the house, my mind reeling over what could have happened. Great Bend was so small, that the only deaths here, since I had moved in, had been of natural causes. One mysterious death seemed improbable. Two? Downright impossible.

I had just turned onto my street when my phone rang. I looked down at it, seeing Sam's name, and put it back in my pocket.

I wasn't sure why, but I didn't feel up to a conversation right then, not even with Sam. Maybe I didn't want him to worry, and didn't have the energy to pretend nothing was wrong.

Opening my door, and shedding my outerwear, the phone rang again, loudly, from my coat pocket. I walked to the sink, filling my kettle up for tea, and I felt a headache sprout behind my eyes.

The phone rang a third time, and I knew that if I didn't answer, it wouldn't cease, so I hit the green button on the screen and held it up to my ear.

"Hello?" I asked, half-heartedly.

"Lacey, you're okay. Thank God."

"Yeah, I'm okay." I took a deep breath, feeling the tears well up in my eyes.

"I heard on the police scanners that there was an animal attack by the bar." I nodded, unable to speak, but he couldn't hear that. "Lacey, are you sure you're okay?"

"Mickey," was all I could get out before my resolve melted, and I broke down.

"Stay right where you are. Dean and I are on our way." He hung up the phone and I crumpled to the floor, holding Birdie around the neck.

When Dean and Sam got to my house, I was curled up on the couch, under one of my Grandma's heavy quilts, petting Birdie mindlessly, and sipping tea. Sam walked right in, using the spare key I had given him months ago, and he came right over to me, kneeling down by the couch and stroked my hair. After a minute, he lifted me up, placing my head on his lap.

"Are you okay?"

"It wasn't an animal, was it? That's why you're here." He shook his head, sadly.

"Dean thinks it was a vampire. The MO fits." I sat up, looking around for the eldest Winchester. "He's heading over to the police station to see if he can get any info from the sheriff. Normally, we would go together, but since people are starting to get to know me around here, I can't fake it."

I folded myself into his arms, relishing in the comfort they provided, but they didn't completely dispel the cold around me. He stood up for a moment, heading to the kitchen to make tea. He handed me a hot mug when he returned.

I set it down on the coffee table untouched.

"Lacey, it'll make you feel better. Come on." He handed it back to me. "I put a shot of bourbon in it."

Knowing that he wouldn't quit, I took a sip. I hadn't realized how cold I was until I was cradling the hot mug in my hands.

"I'm so sorry, Lace. I knew how close you guys were."

"All I can think about is what I'm going to do for a job now. I'm an awful person." New tears sprung up, and sobs racked my body.

"No," he pulled me against him, rubbing my back as I cried. "Your mind is trying to process everything. It's completely normal."

After I had calmed down, he handed the mug back to me, silently telling me to finish it. We sat there, on the couch, in silence, until Dean came back.

"Sammy, I'm not sure if this is a vamp." He closed the door behind him, loosening his tie. He looked like a fed. "Lacey, you got any beer?"

"In the fridge," I croaked, my voice weak.

"What'd you find out?" Sam stood up, walking into the kitchen.

"The second vic was disemboweled."

I stood up, following Sam, intending to refill my tea, until I saw the open bottle of bourbon on the counter. I filled my mug up, sitting at the table, watching Dean take a heavy drink of his beer.

"So, if it wasn't a vampire, what was it?"

"Not sure yet. Could be a rugaru."

"A what?" I felt like no matter how much I learned about the dark things in our world, I would never be done learning.

"It's a monster that passes as human until it turns thirty. Then, it starts craving human flesh. Once it has fed for the first time, it begins a transformation."

"So, it could be anyone?"

"Anyone you know just have a birthday?" Dean joked, and Sam shot him a warning look. "Hey!" he threw his hands up, defensively. "She knows everyone in town. It was worth a try."

"Amy Green was at the bar last night with her friends. It was her birthday. Mickey gave her friends a free round."

"Do you know where Amy lives?"

"Yeah, on third. Blue house with red shutters." I took a sip of my bourbon. "Are you going to kill her?" I wasn't particularly close to the bank teller, but she seemed nice. I couldn't imagine her being a flesh-eating monster.

"I'm going to go ask her some questions. Then I'm going to go get us a room at the motel."

"That's ridiculous. You could stay here."

"I appreciate it, but I'm supposed to be FBI." I guess that explained the suit. "I can't keep my cover by sleeping in the house of a key witness."

"I'm not leaving her here alone, Dean." Sam walked behind me, putting his hands on my shoulders.

"Yeah, I figured. Guess you get the night off then." He set his empty beer bottle on the counter and walked out the door.

Once we were alone, Sam pulled a chair around and sat in front of me.

"Why don't you tell me what happened?"

I took a deep breath, sighing, and finished my drink.

"I didn't really see anything." He gave me a sideways smile, and I continued. "When I got home from work, Birdie was gone. I always leave the dog door unlocked for her, so she can go out to the back yard whenever she needs to, but she never runs off. So, I grabbed a flashlight and started following her trail. It led back to the bar. Mickey was there, just locking up, when I got there. He said that she had run up, scratching at the door, and she was acting scared. While we were standing there talking, she started growling, looking down at the alley. I looked, but I didn't see anything. Mickey offered to give us a ride home, and I was so scared, I didn't say no." I looked down at the floor. "Maybe if I had, he would have just gone upstairs and he would still be alive."

"No, you can't think that way. This isn't your fault." He tried to meet my eyes, but I refused to look at him. "Hey, if that had happened, whatever it was could have followed you home. It could have been you." He pulled my chin up, forcing me to look into his eyes. There were tears forming in his hazel eyes. "Have you eaten yet?" I shook my head. "Come on, I'll drive us into town and get us some lunch."

I stood up and walked over to my bedroom to change. I took the moment of solitude to straighten up my room, throwing dirty clothes in the hamper. You could tell by the state of the room that I hadn't been expecting company. After changing, I rejoined him in the kitchen, placing my hand in his big one.

"Ready to go?" I nodded. He led me to the truck, holding the passenger side door open for me while I climbed in, before walking around the cab to the driver's side.

A/N: So, another heavy chapter. The hunt will continue in chapter eight. Anyway, feedback is much appreciated!


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Sam and Dean had been in town for three days and they were no closer to finding out what was wreaking havoc in Great Bend. Since their arrival, there had been another murder each night, proving Dean's theory about the rugaru. Dean had questioned Amy, even followed her after dark and nothing happened. Their lack of progress and overall leads were making the boys anxious and frustrated.

They took turns patrolling the streets after dark, just for something to do. I offered to help, but Sam was vehemently against the suggestion. Without work, I felt useless, sitting at home every night, flipping through the channels, while the guys were out saving the day.

I even picked up knitting again, a hobby my grandmother had taught me one summer when I was younger, just for something to do. I was working on a shawl when Sam came back, around one in the morning.

"Hey, any luck?" I put my knitting down, and stood up to greet him.

"No." He pulled off his coat. He removed the gun from the back of his jeans and set it on the table, before walking over to the couch. He plopped down, putting his feet up on the coffee table. I followed him, giving him a pointed look about his shoes, and he kicked them off, moodily.

"Don't be grumpy. Something will turn up." I was acting more cheerful than I felt, but I was sick of moping about, while there was nothing on my end to be done.

"We've never had this much trouble hunting down a new rugaru before. They're usually sloppy when they turn. They make mistakes. But this one? I'm starting to think that we may be on the wrong track."

"Really? What else could do those things?" I was running my hands over the soft yarn in my lap. "You guys already ruled out vampires."

"I don't know. Are you ready for bed? I'm beat."

"Yeah, come on." I patted him on the leg and stood up. He followed me into the room, changing quickly into a pair of flannel pajama pants, and crawled under the covers. I joined him, curling up in his arms, and we both fell asleep.

Birdie's growls woke us both up, and I looked at the clock on my nightstand. We had only been asleep for about an hour. I sat up, looking around the dark room.

"Birdie, what is it?" I whispered. Sam put his hand on mine, then motioned for silence. My ears strained, until I heard scratching outside of my bedroom window. My hand flew up to my mouth, and Sam quietly crawled out of bed. He handed me his phone, mouthing for me to text his brother, and crept out of the room to get his gun.

The scratching got louder and then faded away. I reached into the drawer of my nightstand, pulling the gun Sam had given me out and holding it in my hand. I punched out the quick text and tossed the phone on the bed, and jumped as I heard the sound of glass shattering.

There was the sound of a struggle in the living room, and I crept out into the hallway quietly to investigate, closing Birdie in the bedroom behind me. Peeking around the corner, I saw Sam grappling with a man who looked familiar, but I couldn't place him. From around the corner, I raised the gun, with the two wrestling, I couldn't get a clear shot of the attacker, not without possibly hitting Sam too. Besides, from what the Winchesters had told me, a gunshot wouldn't take down a rugaru, only fire would.

I had started running an inventory in my head of anything in the house that I could use to kill it when Sam was thrown down, hitting his head on the coffee table.

I gasped, and then immediately clapped a hand over my mouth. But it was too late. The attacker snapped his head up, and I immediately recognized him. Cotton. He was the drummer in the band that I performed with.

"Lacey?" I heard his southern drawl and it sent a shiver up my spine. "Come on out now. I'm not gonna hurt you."

"Is that why you knocked my boyfriend unconscious?" I'm not sure what made me speak. It sure as hell wasn't bravery. Maybe I thought if I kept him talking long enough, Dean would swoop in and save the day.

"Boyfriend? Come on, darlin', barely. Before he came rollin' in to town, you were happy." He looked around the corner, seeing me hide there. "Lacey, you've lost your spark, waitin' around for him."

"That's not true. I didn't really live until he walked back into my life." I came around the corner, holding the gun against my thigh.

"How long have we known each other?"

"Not long enough, apparently." I scoffed.

"You know, this is only the second time we've actually had a conversation?"

"Don't be stupid, Cotton. We've talked." I had stepped into the living room now, with the sofa separating us. It was also separating me from Sam, who was lying still on the floor.

"No, we haven't." He ran a hand through his shaggy blonde hair in frustration. "You didn't even wish me a happy birthday the other night."

"You turned thirty, right?" He nodded, looking surprised that I knew. "What happened to Mickey, Cotton? What did you do to him, to all of those other people?"

"I don't know. I don't remember."

"You killed him, and you don't remember?" My tears started falling, my anger beginning to boil over. "

"I swear, I don't. When we closed the bar, I wanted to talk to you. But you left so quick. So I thought that I would meet you here."

"You were at my house?" I almost screeched.

"Only to talk, but your dog was causing a ruckus, so I left." He was the reason she had run off.

"Cotton, please, let me check on Sam."

"No! Don't come any closer. I don't want to hurt you, but I'm so hungry."

"Cotton, he can help you. This is what he does. Let me check on him, please." I put the gun into the pocket of my pajama pants, in a show of trust. "I know you didn't mean to hurt Mickey, or the others."

I saw lights on the street in front of my house, and hoped that my hunch was right, that Dean had arrived.

"If you don't want me to get too close, why don't you go into the kitchen while I make sure he's alright? Then we can talk, okay?" He nodded, hesitantly, and then stepped backwards into the kitchen, never taking his eyes off of me, or rather, the gun in my pocket.

I walked over as slowly as I could manage, wincing as I stepped on a shard of glass from the broken window, afraid to startle him, and kneeled down to check on Sam. He had a nasty gash on his forehead and was still out cold. I picked up his head, cradling it in my lap as I tried to wake him.

"Sam, baby? Wake up, please." Tears were welling up in my eyes, from fear and worry. I shook him again, patting his cheek, and his eyes opened drowsily. The pupils were dilated, and I worried that he had a concussion from the fall. He shook his head and then tried to sit up, but I held his shoulders down. "No, relax. You hit your head when you fell. I think you might have a concussion."

"Lacey," he started to argue, but I stopped him with a stern look.

"Shh, I'm okay." I leaned down to whisper in his ear. "Your brother is on his way."

He seemed to stop struggling, putting a hand against his head. I took the gun out of my pocket and discreetly set it down on the floor next to him, moving his hand so he could feel the cold metal brush against his fingers. Then I stood up, slowly walking toward Cotton, showing him my empty hands.

"Let's sit down and talk, okay?"

"No, you just stop right there, okay? I can smell you. I don't want to hurt you, Lacey!" He started to panic, his hands pulling at his hair.

"Cotton," I responded, as soothingly as possible. "I know you don't want to hurt me, or anyone. You can't help what's happening to you."

"I don't know what's going on. One day, I'm feeling fine, the next day, food doesn't have taste, but my mouth waters when people walk by. What am I?"

"I don't know," I saw Dean sneak up to the kitchen door, gun in hand. "But we can help you. Sam and." Before I could finish my sentence, Dean burst into the room, grabbing Cotton from behind and slamming him against the wall. With his arms wrapped around Cotton's who was about fifty pounds lighter, he was unable to move, and Dean dragged him back easily, out of the door and into the front yard.

"Lacey, grab the flamethrower, by the step!" I ran out after him, looking down at the weapon, obviously homemade. A brief thought flew though my head, hoping that we wouldn't wake any of my neighbors with the ruckus.

Dean had thrown Cotton down, and was pummeling him with punch after punch, trying to exhaust him. The sight nearly broke my heart, regardless of what Cotton had done. For all the years I had known him, I had never seen him so much as him raising his voice at anyone. He was quiet, and kind of simple.

"Dean!" I called out, tossing the weapon at him, which he caught in one hand. I knew what was coming next, and I turned away, not having the stomach to watch. He only screamed for a moment, and then it was over. Sam had walked over, wrapping his arms around me and pushing my face into his chest so I couldn't see. He led me back inside, to the couch, and frowned when he saw the bloody footprints I was leaving behind me.

"Here, let me see your foot." He gently grasped my ankle, pulling it into his lap.

"Sam, you're hurt too." I raised my hand to run a finger across his brow, just under the cut on his forehead.

"Well, I'll play doctor, and then it'll be your turn." He winked at me, then winced. He stood up, walking over to the kitchen to grab my first aid kit. When he returned, Dean followed.

"Lacey, can I get the keys to your truck. I need to take care of the body."

"Dean!" Sam said, sharply.

"No, Sam, it's okay. They're on the kitchen table. What's the story?" Sam looked surprised, and a bit appalled at my acceptance of the situation.

"Easy. He breaks in, and while you're talking to him, he confesses to the murders. You threaten to call the police and he takes off. They'll issue a warrant for him, file a missing person's report for him, and he'll vanish.

"That'll work?"

"Yeah, if they find evidence at his house that he did this, then this case will turn cold quickly." Sam reluctantly agreed. "Go ahead, Dean. We'll call the police once you've returned the truck." He rejoined me on the couch, putting my foot back into his lap. Using a pair of tweezers, he pulled the glass shard out of my heel, making me wince. "Sorry, babe."

When he had finished cleaning and bandaging the bottom of my foot, I started nursing his cut, brushing his hair away from his face as I dabbed it with alcohol.

"Lacey, can we finally have the conversation you've been avoiding?"

"Sam," I closed my eyes, shaking my head in exasperation.

"No, I mean it. This was too close. I know that you love this house, but tonight proves that you're not safe here."

"I can't just sell this house, Sam."

"So, don't sell it. Rent it out. You'll only be a few hours away, in case anything happens."

"And for work?" I raised an eyebrow, humor winning over aggravation.

"You'll have income from the house, but if you want to work, you can. There's the bar in town, or if you want to do something new. Lacey, babe, what is honestly keeping you here now?"

"History. But you're right. I think it's time, Sam." I looked at the broken window. "There's no escaping the darkness, is there?" He was shocked at my question, but didn't comment. He just pulled me into him, holding me tightly.

Dean returned about an hour later, dropping off the keys and drove back to the motel. Once we were alone again, I called 911 to report the break in. Two deputies showed up within twenty minutes, taking down both of our statements and using their cell phones to photograph the broken window and our injuries. It was dawn when they finally left. Too exhausted to walk back to the bedroom, we both fell asleep on the couch.

A/N: Shorter chapter than normal, but more is on its way, I promise! Let me know what you think!


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

A/N: Hey kiddos! Sorry it's taken me so long to update. My new employers are doing everything in their power to make sure I have zero energy when I get home. On the plus side, I finally sleep well, lol. Anyway, this is it. The end. Which makes me sad, but I never wanted this to drag on forever. So, it feels right. Thank you all for the love and support. I'm going to go back to work on my original stuff, some of which is posted on wattpad, if you would like to check it out. My username is chrisk0613. Hope you enjoy!

Dean drove back to the bunker that day, leaving Sam here with me to help replace the window. I tried to argue against it, knowing that he was hurting, thanks to the massive bump on his head, but he wouldn't listen. After our trip to the hardware store, where the owner expressed how happy he was that I was okay after my ordeal the night before and inquired, not so discreetly, about the details of Cotton's confession.

"I appreciate your concern, Bob, but Charlie asked me not to say anything. You know, since it's an ongoing investigation." I winked at him, throwing him a charming smile.

"Right, right. Well, I'll tell Mabel that you're alright. She heard what happened at the diner this morning, and was so worried." I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Worried? That old bat was the town's biggest gossip.

"Hey, Bob, while I've got ya," I turned my charm on all the way, breaking out my sweet little small town accent. "You know anyone who might be looking for a place to rent?" He raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Well, with Pat's being closed, and after last night, I'm finally gonna take this guy up on his offer to move in." I elbowed Sam in the ribs lightly. "I'm gonna try to rent the house instead of selling it outright."

"No, haven't heard anything, but I can keep my ears open for you." I thanked him, giving him a mega-watt smile and grabbed the bag of hardware. Sam had the new window tucked under his arm.

"Let's grab some lunch before we head back." I suggested, walking out of the store. After dropping our purchases off at the truck, we walked across the street to the diner. We walked inside, sliding into a booth, and ordered drinks from the waitress. She patted me on the shoulder, asking how I was doing, before going to make our drinks.

"Small towns, huh?" Sam asked with a small chuckle. I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah, there's a lot of perks to living in a town that small. But nothing is free." Mary had just come back with my sweet tea and Sam's coffee and took our order. "Hey, does Dean know that you've asked me to move in? I mean, it's his home too."

"Yeah, he's okay with it. The bunker is big enough that we won't feel crowded, even with Birdie." He moved to my side of the booth, putting his arm around me.

"Well, aren't y'all so cute?" Mary came back to the table, two club sandwiches in hand. I blushed, and thanked her. "Now Sam, when are you going to make this sweet girl an honest woman?" He coughed, choking on the sip of coffee he had just taken and I laughed.

"One step at a time, Mary. We're working on moving in together now."

"That's nice. Well, welcome to our little town, Sam."

"No, Mary, I'll be moving to Lebanon, with Sam." I rubbed his arm, just above the elbow.

"Oh, well, it's probably for the best. I'd want to move too, after what happened."

I just nodded, picking up my sandwich, hoping she would get the message. She didn't.

"So, you gonna sell your house? My daughter is getting married soon, and her and her fiancé will be moving out of their apartment."

"No, not selling. But if they want to rent from me, that's my plan."

She told me that she would ask her daughter and then left us to eat our food.

Once we got home, I grabbed my laptop and started doing some research on being a landlord while Sam went to work replacing the window. After I had downloaded a sample lease agreement and bookmarked some websites, I started taking pictures of the house to post later.

There was a knock on the door, and I put my camera down, walking over to the front door.

"Miss Cooper? Hi, I'm Marcus Anderson. May I come in for a minute?"

"Sure." I recognized him, seeing him in the bar a few times, but had never met him. I stepped aside, allowing him to enter, and apologized for the mess. Sam put the new window down, introducing himself to the man in the suit.

"It's alright. I heard about what happened. I'm happy that everyone is okay."

"Thank you. Would you like some iced tea?"

"No thank you." He knelt over from his spot on the couch and opened up a briefcase, bringing out a big manila envelope. "I'm here to handle the estate of Michael Carter. I was his attorney."

Sam looked at me, confused.

"Mickey," I explained, putting a hand on his.

"Yes, Mickey. Now, as you are probably aware, he had no surviving family." He pulled a document out of the folder, handing it to me. "He's left you the bar. All you have to do is sign where it's marked."

I looked up at him, and then at Sam, surprised.

"Wow, I don't know what to say." He handed me a pen. I took a deep breath, putting my signature on the four lines marked with the fluorescent flags.

"Well, congratulations, you're now the proud owner of Pat's." He handed me a set of keys and a business card, and stood up. "If you have any questions, you can call my office."

I nodded, walking him to the door, and thanked him as I shut it behind him.

"Well, this is crazy." I looked at the keys in my hand, too shocked to know how I felt.

"Does this change things?" He looked at me, worried.

"No," I started. "I don't know." I threw the keys down on the coffee table in frustration.

"Do you want to run the bar?" I shrugged my shoulders. The truth was, I wasn't sure. Pat's was like home to me, but such a big part of that was Mickey. Without him, I felt like the place would be empty, a shell of its former self.

"I don't know. This is all so much, so fast." I ran my hands through my hair.

"Hey," he put his arms around me, putting my head on his chest. "You don't need to decide anything right now, okay? The bar isn't going anywhere. And neither am I."

"I thought you were leaving tomorrow."

"Well, yeah. You know what I mean." He laughed, kissing me, and then standing up. "I've got to get this window finished."

While he worked, I got changed and ran into town, stopping at the realtor's office to talk about listing the house, and while I was there, inquired about the bar. Shelley, the real estate agent knew the house would rent out quickly, and had equal hopes for the bar, if I decided to sell.

After I finished there, I went to the grocery store to pick up some food to make for dinner. When I got back, Sam had finished with the window and was in the shower. I snuck into the bathroom, removing my clothes and climbing in behind him. I put my arms around him, kissing his back.

"Hey," he turned around, kissing me. "What did the realtor say?"

"Prospects look good. The house will get picked up easily. She also says that the bar will sell quickly too, if listed."

"Well, that's good." He turned me around, so my back was against the wall of the shower, and he kissed me, pinning himself against me.

"Sam," I pulled back, putting my hands on his broad chest. "I'm going to sell Pat's. Everything that has happened," I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath, then continued, "It has all shown me that the Great Bend chapter of my life is done. I'm ready to move on, with you." I laced my fingers with his. "I want to spend my life with you, Sam, wherever that takes us."

Sam left before dawn the next morning, and I started packing. It only took me a few days to get all but the essentials boxed up. By Friday, I had three offers on the house, and one serious offer on the bar. After showing the house to the prospective renters, the paperwork was signed, and Mary's daughter and her fiancé were set to move in on the first of April.

Since the guys had more furniture than we knew what to do with, I ended up selling all of mine during a very successful yard sale. Most of my small town showed up to show their support and wish me well on my new adventure.

With all of my loose ends tied, Sam, Dean, and I loaded up my moving truck with the last of my boxes. Locking the door for the final time was an emotional moment. I placed my hand on the fresh paint on the door frame, saying goodbye, and loaded Birdie up in my truck, leaving Great Bend behind. Sam held my hand, and I discretely wiped the few tears that had collected.

When we pulled up to the bunker, Sam jumped out of the truck, then let Birdie hop out.

"Come here." He gave my hand a tug, when I started to head to the bed to grab a box. "I have a surprise for you." I couldn't help but return the big smile he was giving me, as he led me through the bunker, down the hallway where the sleeping quarters were located. He stopped in front of a door at the end and put his hands over my eyes.

"Sam, what is it?"

"Open the door." I felt around for the knob, and turned it, before we stepped inside. "Keep your eyes closed." He stepped in front of me and pulled me into the center of the room. "Okay, open them."

I did as I was told and looked around the room. All four walls were covered with soundproofing and there was a new computer set up in the corner.

"You built me a studio?" There were tears in my eyes again. I threw my arms around him and squeezed him tightly.

"I know that moving in with me means giving up some of your independence, so I wanted you to have a space of your own." He kissed the top of my head, returning my hug. "And with all of the free time you have now, I thought that you could work on your music."

"Sam, how did I ever get so lucky to find you again?" I tilted my head up, standing on my toes to kiss him.

"I know just how you feel. Let's go get your equipment. You promised to play that song that you wrote for me."

"After we get the trucks unloaded." He raised an eyebrow, thinking that I was stalling. "I promise."

And for the first time in my life, I performed a Lacey Cooper original in front of someone other than Birdie.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

(A/N: Hello again, lovelies! No, your eyes do not deceive you, I am _actually_ posting chapter ten! All through the duration of season 11, I felt like I made the right choice in ending the story where I did. Nowhere in all of the episodes did I ever see a point where I thought "Hey, Lacey would be perfect here." Until 11x20, "Don't Call Me Shurley," that is. There was a moment in that episode, towards the end, when I knew that I had to bring her back. I was up until the wee hours of the morning piecing together how I wanted to work her in. That being said, this chapter, and beyond, if it goes past this, contains MAJOR spoilers for season 11, so read at your own discretion. Oh, and enjoy!)

"You guys be careful, okay? I love you, Sam." I hung up the phone, placing it back on the counter and returning to my sandwich. They were currently in Hope Springs, some small town in Idaho that had shown some signs of things going hinky, investigating another possible Amara -type hit. Thinking of the Darkness made me shudder, involuntarily. I had never come face to face with Amara, thanks to Sam's promise of keeping me away from the things he deemed most dangerous, but the stories about her, and the evidence of her terror around the country was enough to chill me to the bone.

Birdie whined from her spot at my feet, begging for a slice of lunchmeat, and I looked down at her.

"What? I don't starve you," I stated, before _accidently_ dropping a piece of roast beef from my plate. She was so spoiled. She scarfed it down, almost swallowing it whole, before padding off down the hallway towards Dean's room, looking immensely proud of herself. I was starting to think that my dog had abandoned me, choosing the eldest Winchester over the one who had been taking care of her all these years. When he was home, they were inseparable. When he was gone, she spent most of her time in his room, waiting for him to return. He had also warmed to her considerably. It was cute, seeing the unlikely pair of best friends.

After I finished eating, I opened up my laptop, sending a quick email to my tenants to make sure that the plumber had been by to look at the water heater, and then went back to browsing news stories, looking for any leads leaning towards the odd. With them both back out there, hunting full time, I felt useless sitting at home waiting for them to return, like some soldier's wife. I insisted on helping any way I could, and after a few weeks of constant cajoling, Sam finally bent, and allowed me to research for them, from the safety of the bunker's library.

Thanks to the rent I received from Mary's daughter and her new husband and the money I received from the sale of the bar, I didn't have to go back to work, but after living at the bunker for half a year, I knew that I would eventually go crazy with nothing to do, so I started working one or two days a week at the diner in town, just to get out. Looking at the clock, I knew that I would have to head over there soon for the lunch shift.

The sun was warm, shining on leaves that were just starting to change colors. Greens were mixed with a myriad of colors; oranges, reds, and yellows. Pulling into a parking spot at the diner, I waved to Melissa, one of my coworkers, through the window and walked in to start my shift.

"Where are the boys?" She asked me later, when we both had a moment between tables.

"Out of town on a job. They should be back by today or tomorrow."

"Girl, I don't know how you managed it. Those guys," she whistled, winking at me.

I giggled, waving her comment off with my hand. I was used to her fawning over the two handsome men in my life.

"And why haven't you brought your friend Cass back to see me? He's positively dreamy!" She smacked the back of her hand to her forehead, feigning a swoon. I giggled in response. She was apparently over the moon for the angel, from the moment I brought him in to the diner, and he was oblivious to her many advances.

"He's been busy." I replied, with a lie that wasn't far from the truth. He was busy, after all, letting Lucifer parade around wearing his skin. "And I've told you, many times, that he's not interested."

The first time I said that, she assumed that I meant that he was gay, and I didn't correct her. It was easier than the truth.

I worked until dinner, grabbing an extra apple pie out of the dessert case, and paid for it with some of the tips I had earned, before heading back to the truck and drove back home.

I left the pie on the counter, scribbling a quick "Welcome home!" on the box and headed to my room to shower. Birdie greeted me at Dean's door, following me into the bathroom.

Halfway through washing my hair, she started barking and pawing at the door, and I knew that the boys were home, sooner than expected. I hurried to finish, hopping out and wrapping myself in my plush bathrobe, dripping hair hanging down my shoulder. I opened the door and watched Birdie bolt out of the room, anxious to greet Dean and Sam. I followed her to the war room, and stopped short when I saw that they weren't alone. Birdie ran up to the newcomers, a young Asian boy, and a short man with curly hair and a beard, and stuck her paw out for a shake.

"Hey Birdie," the bearded man accepted her paw, before scratching between her ears. I shrank back, embarrassed by my state of undress in the presence of company. "Hi Lacey." He waved to me, before turning back to the guys.

I walked over, confused at how this complete stranger knew my name, but I made the assumption that Sam had maybe told him, and stood over by my boyfriend, who looked just as confused. Maybe he hadn't.

"How did you? Are you okay?" Sam stuttered out, looking at the boy.

"Yeah, I mean, you know, given the circumstances." He looked down, and then back at him, with a broad smile on his face.

"I don't mean to interrupt, but kind of a plateful here," the man in the tan jacket butted in. "And Kevin, you've been in the Veil long enough. It's time you had an upgrade." He waved his hand and Kevin morphed into a ball of light that drifted up, through the ceiling, and disappeared. All three of us turned to look at the man, mouths agape. What the hell had I just seen?

"Holy crap," Dean muttered, dumbfounded.

After Chuck, the man with the beard revealed himself to be none other than God, I had to grab the edge of the war table for support. No matter how many times my world had been tipped on its axis with a new discovery about the supernatural, I still found it hard to swallow when something new reared its head. Feeling overwhelmed, I excused myself, stating that I needed to change, but really, I needed to get away.

Once back in the bedroom, I leaned against the door, trying to take slow, controlled breaths, and slow my racing heart.

I knew, somehow, that I was in no danger, but the realization that a deity, _the_ deity was standing 20 feet away from me, was close enough to my threshold of tolerance. I feel like I had taken to the supernatural world pretty well, all things considered. But even Sam and Dean looked shaken, so I knew my reaction wasn't irrational.

After I put clothes on, dried my hair, and braided it down my back, I hesitated in the room, delaying the inevitable. I took a deep breath, steeling myself to rejoin the group in the war room, but the second my feet were out the door, my courage dissipated. Instead, I headed to my studio, shutting the door behind me. I sat down in the antique rocker and pulled the guitar into my lap. With the wood grain under my fingertips, I felt infinitely more grounded. I had planned on spending some time working on my music this evening, anyway, before the surprise, and it seemed like the best thing to do to keep my mind from spinning out of control.

I looked around the room, for my laptop, and cursed when I realized that it was still sitting on the counter where I had left it earlier. Instead, I grabbed a guitar pick off of the soundboard and started strumming, my fingers forming random chords until the notes started to click into place. Playing the melodies of a few of my favorite songs, my mind started to process all that had happened in the short hour since Sam had returned home.

My family had always been devoutly religious. I was raised to go to church every Sunday, and when I would stay at my Gran's house when I was little, she and I would always kneel by my bed and pray before sleep. I only stopped after the accident that killed my parents. Their funeral was the last time I stepped into a church. Now, in the presence of God, I felt ashamed. I didn't think I could face him, after losing my faith.

There was a knock on my door, and I stopped playing.

"Come in," I said, quietly, expecting it was Sam. I was surprised to see Chuck standing there, holding my laptop in one hand, a coffee mug that read "World's Greatest Dad" in the other. I almost snickered at the irony.

"I thought that you would like this back." He handed me the computer, and I bit back the urge to ask him how he had known. I was pretty sure I already knew the answer.

"Thank you." I took it out of his hand, gingerly, plugging it back into the soundboard.

"Do you mind?" He gestured to the guitar, hanging awkwardly in my hand. I nodded, handing it to him.

"You play?" I wanted to pinch myself for such a stupid question. Of course he could play.

"It's a new hobby of mine." He held the neck in his left hand, sitting down on a stool near the rocking chair and ran his fingers over the strings. "Sam picked a good one for you."

I smiled, in spite of everything. He started strumming, the tune familiar, but I couldn't place it.

"They're happy. They think about you all the time." My eyes snapped up, tears starting to fill them, as the meaning behind his statement washed over me. "I thought you would like to know."

"Thank you," I managed to choke out, swallowing the sob in my throat. "God,"

"Chuck, just call me Chuck." He gave me a sideways smile, his blue eyes shining.

"Chuck," I took a shaky breath, tripping over what I was trying to say. "I'm sorry. I gave up on you, after,"

"I know," he interrupted, placing a hand on my arm. His touch was warm, comforting, and I felt relief wash over me like a wave. He readjusted his posture on the stool, propping the guitar on his knee. "Do you know this one?" He went back to playing the same tune he was before. I shook my head, my forehead scrunched up in concentration. "Carry on my wayward son," he prompted, singing the first few lyrics, looking at me to continue.

I knew why I couldn't place the tune before. The tempo he was playing much slower than the original Kansas version I grew up listening to.

"There'll be peace when you are done," I continued, sitting down across from Chuck, tapping my knee to keep the beat. After a moment, he joined me, our voices creating a melody. "Once I rose above the noise and confusion, just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion. I was soaring ever higher, but I flew too high."

Sam entered the room close to the end of the song, silently listening to us, with a smile on his face. After it was over, Chuck handed my guitar back to me, winking, and excused himself to take a shower in one of the guest rooms.

"Guess you can add 'jam sessions with God' to your resume," he chuckled, stepping behind me and placing his hands on my shoulders.

"We live such a weird life." I placed my guitar back in its stand and rose, wrapping my arms around him. He returned the hug, leaning down to kiss me.

"That we do."

While the boys showered and unwound, I dug through the fridge looking for something to fix for dinner. There were two steaks, but it wouldn't be enough for all of us, so I grabbed my purse and left a note on the fridge that I was running into town.

Once in the garage, I looked at the empty spot where the Impala usually sat. If the guys didn't drive back, how had they gotten home? A quick glance around the room showed me that there were no new vehicles there. I didn't think much about it. I knew that Castiel could pop in and out whenever he wanted, and I know that he's transported, for lack of a better word, Sam and Dean, so why couldn't Chuck? I shrugged my shoulders and hopped into the truck.

At the grocery store, I grabbed a cart and headed straight to the meat counter, to grab a few more steaks. I also loaded up on more chicken, a few slabs of ribs, and other things. With the boys gone so often, I had made a habit of eating at the diner, instead of cooking for myself. So, with everyone home, stocking up was a necessity."

I made my rounds through the whole store, picking up things I knew we needed and some non-essentials. Dean's sweet tooth loved it when I baked, and with us having company, it was the perfect excuse to do so. With a loaded cart, I headed to check out, paid the bill, and followed the bag boy out to the truck, where he helped me put everything in the back.

"I'm back!" I announced to Dean, who was sitting at the table with a beer in hand and the pie from the diner. "Hey, help me with these? There's more in the truck. And don't eat all of that pie. I'm cooking."

He chuckled at my scolding, and headed out to grab the rest of the groceries, while I started putting things away. It took Dean two trips to get all of the bags from outside.

"Are we feeding an army, Shorty?" After he was done, he went back over to the table, back to his pie, but I had removed it, hiding it from him. "Hey!"

"I told you, I'm cooking dinner. Pie is for dessert." I pointed a finger at him, motherly, before laughing and finishing with the groceries. "Not that there was enough pie left for all of us, you glutton."

"I thought it was a gift. Sam doesn't like pie," he cried, indignantly.

"Sam likes my pie," I teased, winking at him playfully. His face screwed up in disgust. "I'll bake another one. There were peaches at the store that were just perfect for baking."

His face lit up. He was such a kid, sometimes. It was adorable.

"Want to help me bake?" I knew it was a reach. Dean would pitch in and help sometimes, but it was usually Sam who ended up being my sous chef.

"Yeah, I guess. Nothing better to do." He stood up, walking over to the sink to wash his hands. I tied my apron around my waist, offering to get him one too, which he declined.

"So, tell me about Hope Springs. What happened?" I had just dumped all of the ingredients for the crust in the mixer, and turned it on. Dean was washing and slicing the peaches for the filling.

"Not much to tell. Amara hit another town with her zombie-fog, but this one was just killing people, or making them kill themselves. We tried to keep everyone inside, but there were a lot of people lost."

I looked over at him, concern painted on my face, as he continued.

"We were holed up at the police station, and had taped up the windows and vents, but some of the fog had gotten through. When Sam fell, I thought we were all goners," I sucked in a breath through my teeth, feeling my stomach fall. When he heard that, he cursed under his breath. "He's fine. Chuck saved the day, just in time."

I always assumed that when I got a mission debrief from them, that they were sugar-coating the truth, never letting on how close to death they always came. This was proof that I had been correct.

Rubbing my eyes wearily, I turned back to the mixer, pulling the dough out with my hands.

"Thank God for that," I chuckled, half-heartedly, at the phrase that I had muttered, without thinking. "Dean, I know that you hate it when I get girly and emotional, but damn it, you guys terrify me." I looked over at him with tears in my eyes. "I can't lose either of you. You're my family."

Before the sobs could take over, Dean pulled me into a tight hug, rubbing my back.

"I know, kiddo," he whispered to me, resting his chin on the top of my head. "We're not going anywhere, I promise."

I pulled away first, wiping tears on the back of my hand.

"Who told you to stop slicing?" I pointed at the cutting board, joking to clear the tension from the air around us.

"You're such a tyrant," he replied with a smirk, picking up the knife and returning to the fruit.

We worked in silence, until the pie was assembled and placed in the oven.

"Oh, hey, where's Baby? She wasn't in the garage." His face changed, like a light bulb had gone off, and he left the room in a hurry, shouting Chuck's name. I chuckled and started preparing dinner.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

Chuck had become a roommate of sorts over the next few days. The guys did some travelling, discovering the existence of a new prophet, Donatello, and to a dive bar to meet Metatron. I sat at the bunker, with Chuck, and then the prophet, ordering takeout for our guests, and cleaning up messes left behind. I was used to cleaning up after Dean (Sam was usually pretty neat), but Chuck was driving me crazy. Is it sacrilege to call God a slob?

Metatron had delivered some bad news, stating that Chuck was planning on sacrificing himself to Amara, and that had us all on edge. It seemed like an "all hands on deck" situation, so I called the diner, asking for some time off.

We had just finished eating lunch, and were gathered around the war table. Chuck had left earlier that day, and hadn't returned.

"He's here. I'll go let him in." Sam stood up, heading up the stairs to the door. Metatron had been bugging Dean for the past two hours, claiming that he wanted to help. After ignoring all of the text messages and constant phone calls, I finally threatened his life if he didn't make it stop. If he noticed how testy I was being, he wisely didn't comment. I stood up, walking to the kitchen to grab the six pack of beer I had bought earlier, carrying it back in with me. I passed one to Donatello and Dean, sitting the rest in the middle of the table.

"I don't know if Chuck is leaning our way." The defeated look on his face made a fresh wave of exhaustion hit.

The two continued to discuss their options, including Lucifer, while I sat and listened quietly, until Sam returned, with a man that could only be Metatron trailing behind.

"Make it quick, don't touch anything." Sam walked over to the table, taking the seat next to me, and threw his feet up.

"Dean! Thanks for inviting me," Metatron exclaimed, cheerfully.

"Inviting you?" Dean scoffed. "You've been circling the building all night. You sent me two hundred text messages with dumbass emojis. You've got three minutes."

Seemingly unfazed by Dean's hostility, the Scribe turned his attention to the newest member of the fold, Donatello, introducing himself with a definite lack of humility.

"He's freaking me out," Donatello looked at me, pleadingly, and I couldn't help but chuckle.

"Okay, you said that you wanted to help." Dean interrupted. "Besides world-class douchery, what do you have to offer?"

"Oh nothing." He waved his hand, with a patronizing look on his face. "I just transcribed the angel tablet, and know all of the spells. And I know what makes Amara tick." He started counting off on his fingers. "And I had a relationship with the big guy for eons. Shall I keep going?" He reached for Sam's beer, as he sat down, but he snatched it back quickly.

"Hey, that's mine."

"Help yourself, Metatron." I gestured to the remaining bottles on the table, soliciting glares from both Winchesters. I rolled my eyes. So much for being hospitable.

"Thank you. Lacey, right? It's nice to see a friendly face here, amongst, well," he gestured around the table, with a crooked smile. Dean cleared his throat, losing his patience.

"As much as I hate to admit it, he kind of has a point," Sam spoke up, sounding tired.

"I don't know." Dean looked skeptical, as he sipped his beer.

Metatron scoffed, dramatically.

"You need all the help you can get, even douche help."

"And since when did jump on the God wagon? You never used to give a damn." I didn't know much about the history between the Winchesters and the Scribe angel. From the little details Sam had shared with me, I knew that he had been a thorn in their sides since he had revealed himself, and that he had actually tried to take over Heaven, becoming the new God, in Chuck's absence.

"Well, I didn't, at one time." Metatron's demeanor changed, and he looked almost weary. "Now that he's gone all kamikaze, leaving us with the Darkness," he paused, taking a deep breath. "I was by his side since the Creation. He believed in me. If there's something I can do to help save him, and his creation, then it seems like I should."

Everyone exchanged dark looks, and I drained my beer, wishing I had grabbed the bourbon instead.

"The plan is to rescue Lucifer from Amara. Then he teleports us out of Amara's hideout and we convince Chuck to use him to fight her." I could hear the doubt in Dean's voice and it made me want to argue with them not to go, but I stayed quiet. Metatron didn't. He scoffed.

"That's your plan? Do you even know where Amara is?"

Donatello, who had been quiet through the whole exchange, raised his hand.

"Um, I think I might know where she is. I've been getting this vibe. It's like a ping in my cerebral cortex." He said the words with a lack of conviction, like he was still trying to grasp at reality.

"Oh, so either Amara, or a stroke." He shook his head. "And how are we supposed to keep Amara busy while we're liberating Lucifer?"

I already knew the answer to that question, and rubbed my eyes, wearily.

"Me. I'm going to be the distraction." He drained his beer, reaching for the last one in the middle of the table. "She's in my head, telling me that she wants to meet. It's how we knew that Cass was in trouble. She's been showing me."

I listened to the group go over the details of the plan for a few minutes before standing up and walking into the kitchen. I already knew that none of it pertained to me. Sam would never let me help, too scared to put me in harm's way, no matter how much I wanted to help. I loathed staying behind all of the time, knowing that I could help.

I poured myself a tumbler of bourbon, cursing my inner voice as it played Devil's advocate. It argued that I would do the same thing if I were in Sam's shoes; keep him as far away from the danger as possible.

Sam walked in a moment later, as if summoned, pouring himself a glass, and chugged it before pinning me against the kitchen counter with both of his arms. The look on his face was unreadable as he dipped down to kiss me.

"Lace, I want you to stay at the motel in town tonight." He rested his forehead against mine.

"No," I stated stubbornly, looking up at him. "I'm staying here."

"Lacey, we're bringing Lucifer back here." He stared at me, as I crossed my arms over my chest defiantly. "The devil. It's not safe for you under the same roof as him."

"But it is for you?" I put my hands on his chest, pushing him back. "You are no more qualified to fight the devil than I am."

"Stop being so stubborn," he ground out, rubbing his face. After a moment, he calmed, placing his hands on my arms, just above the elbows. "Please do this for me."

"Sam, I appreciate how much you worry about me," I started, trying to keep my voice even, and my patience in check. "But this is my home, our home. You can't chase me out every time there's a hint of trouble. You said it yourself, back in Great Bend. There is no safer place for me, than here in the bunker with you."

"That was different. Stop twisting my words." He was getting frustrated again, and he stepped back from me, grabbing the bourbon. I snatched it out of his hand, setting it back on the counter. The look on his face would have normally made me cower, but I was full of my own furious energy.

"Nope, you're about to face off against Amara. I want you out there with a clear head." He looked like he was about to reply when I stopped him, seizing my opportunity. "See, it sucks to be bossed around like a child, doesn't it?"

We didn't fight often, but when we did, it was a sheer battle of wills. Both of us were incredibly stubborn, but I usually took it too far. I immediately regretted the low-blow, but didn't let it show. Instead, I straightened my spine and tried another tactic.

"I've been here before, with Lucifer, and he never hurt me. He barely paid me any attention. And this time, Chuck is here. Do you really think that he would let anything happen?"

He gave me a long, weary look, and then shrugged his shoulders.

"Fine." He turned on his heel and left the kitchen. I felt so guilty that I wanted to kick myself.

I plopped down on one of the chairs at the kitchen table, refilled my bourbon, and stared into the glass morosely.

Dean came in a moment later, like he had been waiting outside overhearing our argument and announced that they were heading out. He gave me a sympathetic look.

"He's just worried about you." He grabbed my glass, sipping the liquor and then handing it back to me.

"I know. I just hate feeling so useless."

"Trust me, we both know that you're tougher than you look. But this isn't your ordinary 'run of the mill' case we're on. This is big." He pulled me into a sideways hug, and I wiped a stray tear off of my cheek.

"Just be careful out there, okay?" I smiled at him, before heading to the garage to see the rest of the group off. Sam was just climbing into the Impala when he saw me enter. He stepped out, meeting me halfway.

"I'm sorry, Sam." I threw my arms around his waist, squeezing him tightly.

He wrapped his long arms around me, kissing the top of my head.

"It's okay." He pulled my face up, looking into my misty eyes.

I pulled his face down into a desperate kiss, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"Come back to me, okay?" He nodded, as he used his thumb to brush a stray tear off of my cheek. I mouthed the words "I love you," to him, before he smiled and stepped out of my embrace.

Once the Impala was out of sight, I headed back into the kitchen, to clean up the dishes from earlier. It had become a ritual for me, cleaning instead of worrying about the "what-if's" that plagued my thoughts with their absence.

"Need some help?" I had just filled up the sink, when the voice behind me made me jump.

"Jesus, Chuck, you scared me." I put a wet, soapy hand against my chest, trying to calm my pounding heart.

"Sorry," he replied, sheepishly. He walked over to my side, standing in front of the dishwasher. He held out his hand for the plate I was holding.

"No, I've got this." I waved him off. "Are you hungry? There's leftovers in the fridge." I watched him walk over, pulling the pizza box out and taking it over to the table. I joined him, after I finished with the dishes, sitting in the seat next to him and pulled out a slice.

"Tell me a story," I asked, after chewing a mouthful.

"What kind of story?" He looked amused by my request. I looked down and saw Birdie asleep at his feet.

"Anything to take my mind off of this." I gestured to the air around me. "This is the worst part about all of it. The waiting, the worrying."

"Alright." He was silent for a moment, then launched into a monologue, telling me about Noah and the great flood. He was only about halfway through, when he stopped, looking concerned.

"What is it?" My heart started racing with worry. He just held up his hand, then snapped his fingers. There was a loud pounding noise from beneath us. "What was that?"

I heard footsteps from the direction of the war room and ran out to investigate. When I saw Sam, I ran into his arms. He was followed by Donatello, and a very beat up looking Castiel.

Chuck had followed me, with another six pack of beer that he must have summoned from somewhere, because we had finished all of ours earlier.

"Occasionally, I do answer a prayer." He twisted the top off of one, looking over at Castiel.

The glare that he was returning made me remember that it was actually Lucifer occupying him, and the tension between them was enough to make me shiver. Sam pulled me tighter against him, instinctively.

"You've changed." The look on Chuck's face was hard to discern.

After a moment, Lucifer spoke, his voice sounding softer than I would have guessed.

"You've changed."

Chuck shrugged it off, smiling slightly.

"Well, still, I'm pretty much the same." He flicked his wrist, and the wounds on Castiel's face began to glow as he healed him. The look of contempt on the angel's face was enough to freeze the room.

"Umm, let's let them catch up," I stated, awkwardly, grabbing Sam's hand and pulling him out of the room. Donatello followed us.

"What was that banging? Just before you got here?" We were sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for Dean to return. He had sent Sam a text saying that he was okay, and walking back now.

"The car. Chuck dropped us into the basement."

"Dean's going to be pissed." I chuckled, quietly. "What happened?"

"Not sure. We had just freed Lucifer, but he wasn't able to get us out of there, so we took the Impala. I guess she caught on to the ruse, and caught up with us," he paused, looking at me sadly. "She was holding the car, and I couldn't get away from her. Then we were here."

I reached over, grabbing his hand tightly.

"I thought that was it. I thought that she was going to kill us." He looked down at my hand, a shudder escaping him.

"Where's Metatron?"

"He stayed behind, to buy us time."

I nodded, numbly. I tried to pull my hand from Sam's grasp, but he held me firmly.

Dean entered the room a moment later, looking just as shaken. He grabbed the bourbon bottle from the counter and brought it over to the table. I patted Sam's wrist, standing up to grab us all glasses.

I passed them to Dean, who filled all of them and handed them out.

"Donny, man, thank you," Dean raised his glass to the prophet. "We couldn't have saved that dick without you."

He smiled, slightly, looking pale. I recognized the look on his face, his desire to run.

"You know, you can stay here as long as you want," I offered, quietly, already knowing his answer.

"I appreciate it, but I have things that need to be settled at home."

Dean finished his drink and excused himself, heading towards his room. Sam watched him go, a worried look on his face.

"At least stay the night. I'll call you a cab first thing in the morning." He thanked me and then followed Dean.

Once we were alone, Sam pulled me into his lap, resting his head on my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around him, running my fingers through his hair. I felt his lips on my neck, planting soft kisses on the exposed skin.

I looked down at him and saw the desperate desire in his hazel eyes. He pulled me down, my lips crashing onto his.

"Sam, we can't," I whispered, pulling back.

"Why not?"

"We're not married." I was blushing furiously, and he laughed.

"That's never stopped us before."

"Yeah, but God was never here with us before." I gave him a pointed look, and he scooped me up, carrying me towards our room.

"I don't give a damn." Once inside, he plopped me down on the bed, lowering himself over me. "Let him smite me."

(A/N: Hello again! It's my birthday, so I thought a gift to my followers was in order. So, what do you think? I'm happy, but I'd love to hear opinions! Also, I've started posting my original works on FictionPress. I would appreciate some love, if you've got a bit of time to spare. My username there is the same, so check them out, if you'd like. I'm starting on chapter twelve now, so I'll update when I've got it done. Until then…)


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

I woke up to the sound of loud music blasting through the halls. Looking over at the alarm clock on the nightstand, which read 3:03, and cursed out loud. I pulled on a pair of pajamas, tying my hair back into a ponytail and left the room to investigate.

"What's going on?" I asked Dean, who was standing next to Sam, outside of one of the dormitories, where the music was pouring out. Sam was pounding on the door.

"Lucifer!" He shouted, looking at me apologetically. "You know, at some point in time, you're going to have to come out and talk to, um, God."

"This is like the worst episode of 'Full House' ever." Dean crossed his arms, looking exhausted.

"Daddy issues?" I asked, leaning into Sam.

The music lowered, and Castiel's voice carried through the door.

"If dad has something to say to me, I'll hear it from him! Until then, I'll be in my room." The volume raised again, just as both of them started to protest, and I rolled my eyes.

"It's my room," Dean stated, sounding almost defeated, as we all walked away.

I led the way to the kitchen, intent on making coffee in preparation for what seemed like a long night ahead. I was surprised to see Chuck standing there, wearing my apron and stirring something in one of our big mixing bowls.

"I'm making pancakes." He gestured to the seats at the counter, and we all sat down. I looked at the mess on the island, shuddering slightly. He started ladling batter onto the griddle. "Is he still pouting?"

"Yes, in my room." Dean growled. I stood up, pouring everyone a cup of coffee. There was enough in the pot for everyone but me. I groaned, opening up the cabinet to make more. Chuck snapped his fingers, and the pot refilled.

"Thanks," I muttered, drinking it black. I watched him flip the pancakes, stifling a yawn.

"Why don't you talk to him?" Sam asked, rubbing my back.

"Won't do any good." He had turned his back to us, focusing on breakfast.

"Why not?" Dean and I both looked at Sam, whose exasperated tone mirrored how we felt.

"Cause I can't give him what he wants." Birdie padded in, making her rounds for attention, before sitting by Chuck's feet, looking up at him expectantly. Dean called her over, but she just ignored him.

"And what's that?" Dean asked, patting his leg one more time for Birdie before giving up.

"What everyone wants," Chuck responded, matter-of-factly. "My sister, my children, you humans, an apology." He was scooping the first batch of pancakes onto a plate. "A big, wet, 'I'm sorry.'"

"So give it to him." I groaned as I laid my head on the counter, already over the drama.

"It's not like he's asking for a weapon, or for Hell or Heaven." Dean added. "He's asking for words."

Chuck turned around, placing a plate in front of me before handing one to each of the guys.

"I can't say I'm sorry if I'm not." He tapped me on the head, silently telling me to eat. "What he wants an apology for, I did it for humanity, for the world." He took a sip of his coffee, from his favorite mug. "Look, Lucifer wants what everyone wants, Amara gone. Okay, let's just give him a little time to cool off."

I stabbed at my pancakes, sullenly. Chuck looked over at me, waiting for a reaction. I smiled sarcastically, before taking a bite.

"Okay, well, if you haven't noticed, but a little time isn't something that we have." Dean drew his attention back. "The end is freakin' nigh."

Chuck didn't respond, just nodded slightly, and went back to his coffee. Sam and Dean started eating their pancakes.

"What if we mediate a conversation between you?" Dean shot me a skeptical look. "Seriously. Think of it like counseling."

"Yeah, we'll just send God and Lucifer to couples' therapy. You wanna see if Dr. Phil is available?"

"Dean, I'll try anything to resolve this so we can get a good night's sleep, so if you have his number, by all means, call him." I snapped back.

"Guys, stop." Sam rubbed his eyes in frustration. "This isn't helping."

Chuck drained his mug, setting it on the counter.

"Alright, fine, I'll give it a try."

"Good, I'll go get Lucifer." I stood up, and Sam started to protest, but I put my hand on his shoulder. "I'll be fine."

I walked down the hall, approaching the door to Dean's room, and knocked.

"It's Lacey. You wanna talk about it?" A part of me was shocked by how calm I was. Normally, I'd be terrified, but something about the way he was acting made him less scary. Or maybe I was just too tired.

"Not with you."

"Good, because it's not me that wants to talk." I leaned against the door frame, rubbing my eyes. The music shut off and the door opened. Castiel's eyes stared out at me, angrily. "Come on, we're having a pow-wow in the library."

He growled, but followed when I started walking away. When we entered the library, Chuck was already sitting in a chair, with Birdie laying at his feet. When Lucifer entered, she started whining. He placed a calming hand on her head and she stood up and left the room.

With everyone present, I followed her to our bedroom, grabbing my robe and closing her in the room behind me. Once back in the library, I saw that Lucifer had taken his seat and plopped down on the stairs by the telescope.

"Him first," Lucifer pointed at Chuck. "I'm the one who's owed an explanation."

Chuck closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

"Okay, let's try 'I feel' statements," Dean suggested, smiling. It took all the energy I had to keep from snickering.

"Guess we don't need Dr. Phil after all," I muttered under my breath, soliciting a warning glare from Sam. I threw my hands up, gesturing for them to continue. The Winchesters both stepped back, taking a seat on either side of me.

"I am sorry that you feel that I betrayed you," Chuck stuttered out, looking over at Dean for approval. We all nodded. "That I acted without cause. I'm sorry that you can't see you gave me no choice." I saw Dean shaking his head out of the corner of my eye, and my head dropped to my knees. "I'm good."

"You heard that, right?" Lucifer looked over at us.

"We all know that you are God, um, but," Sam faltered apologetically, "maybe could you be a little less, uh, Lordly?"

"But I am, I'm the Lord." Chuck looked surprised and a bit affronted. Lucifer threw his hands up dramatically.

"Wow, there he goes."

The bickering continued like that for what seemed like hours, and every so often, each of them looked over at us to pitch in. Once voices were raised, I stepped out to grab more coffee for everyone. When I returned, Sam was looking contrite.

"I can't believe I'm about to say this, but um, Lucifer is right."

What the hell had I missed in the last few minutes?

Chuck turned around in his seat, looking at my boyfriend incredulously. I passed the mugs out, pouring the coffee as discreetly as possible before returning to my seat in between the guys.

"All he wants is an apology. And you're too concerned with being right to give him one." He was waving his hands, nervously. "But apologies aren't always about being right. Sometimes, they're just about apologizing."

"Yeah, and the great thing about apologies is you don't have to mean them." I looked over at Dean, rolling my eyes, before sipping my coffee. "You know, I lie and tell Sam I'm sorry all the time."

Sam looked over at his brother, from over my head.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, instinctively. A smile spread over his face. "See?"

"Alright, enough from the peanut gallery." Chuck waved his hand and all three of us were transported to the balcony above the war room. I felt like throwing up. Sam saw me sway and pulled me into his lap.

The pair went back to talking, but we couldn't make out the words. I leaned against Sam's shoulder, and before long, I was drifting off.

Sam shook me, gently putting me on my feet, before he and Dean both raised.

"So, are we good?" Dean asked. They looked at each other, and then both nodded, slightly. "Okay, great."

"So, what now?" Sam asked, leaning against the railing.

"We trap Amara, put her back in the box," Chuck stated, looking up at us. I started to make my way to the stairs.

"Wait, what?" Dean asked, and I stopped in my tracks.

"Well, you were right. She needs to be destroyed. But I won't kill her." He looked down, sadly.

Sam looked over at me.

"Why don't you go to get some sleep, while we talk this out?" Normally, I would argue with him, but I was about to drop on my feet, so I agreed, giving everyone a half-hearted wave as I left the room.

Sam woke me up the next morning, crawling into bed and pulling me against him.

"Hey," I whispered, stretching my arms over my head, before wrapping them around his neck.

"So, we have a plan. Why don't you get dressed and meet us in the war room?" He kissed the tip of my nose, and slipped back out of the room. I quickly pulled on clothes and followed him.

"Okay, spill," I ordered, taking an empty seat at the table.

Sam paced around the room, explaining the details of the attack to me, and Chuck moved to stand behind me, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. With his touch, I felt a warmth spread through me. I looked over my shoulder at him, questioningly.

"Protection," he said, shrugging. "Just in case. You'll be here, while we do this." I started to protest, but Chuck shook his head. "No, we all agree. This is not a fight we want you anywhere near." The sincerity in his voice made me stop. Or maybe it was the fact that I was being commanded by God. But I nodded, and Sam visibly relaxed.

"Are we all ready?" There were nods all around, and they all stood. I joined them, walking over to Dean and Sam, hugging them both tightly.

"Be careful, guys." I turned to Chuck, who was standing close to us. "Take care of them, okay?" Before I could stop myself, I wrapped my arms around him too, surprising him with the contact.

"Of course." He stepped back.

"What, no hug for me?" Lucifer looked over, arms open, mockingly.

"Blow me," I spat out, turning back to Sam.

"I love you. I'll be home as soon as we're done." There was something hidden behind his eyes and seeing it put me on edge.

"Sam, what are you not telling me?" I held his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me.

"Nothing, I promise." He wrapped his arms around me, holding me like it would be the last time, and then kissed me quickly. I blinked, and I was holding air. They were gone.

Heading back to my studio, I grabbed my guitar like an anchor, trying to shake the feeling of dread. I had watched Sam leave countless times now, but this time was different. He was acting strangely, like this was the end. I guess in a way it was. This was an apocalypse championship fight and while we had the odds in our favor, it still wouldn't be easy.

I let the tears flow freely, falling on the old wood grain of my guitar. Birdie padded in the room, placing her head in my lap. I scratched between her ears, before standing up to close the door. I sat back on the floor near her, hugging her while I sobbed.

She started growling, deep in her chest, seconds before the room started shaking. I clung to her in fear, trying to calm her. The rumbling ceased, followed by a crash far away. My first instinct was to pray, but I knew that anything I said to Chuck would only distract him, so I rocked on my heels, holding Birdie tightly, while I recited song lyrics in my head in an attempt to calm down.

I heard the clacking of heels in the hallway, and clapped a hand over my mouth. Birdie had left me, creeping behind Gran's rocker. I watched the door with wide eyes, sure that at any moment, the door would swing open and Amara would find me.

How had she found the bunker, or entered for that matter? Chuck had assured us that the Enochian warding built into the stone would be enough to keep anything out.

The footsteps stopped nearby, but not in front of my door.

"Hello, witch." I heard her say, from what sounded like Dean's room. "How did you find me?"

I heard a whoosh sound outside, and Birdie perked her ears up, retreating from her hiding spot to stand next to me. I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and punched out a text to Sam, telling him that she was here.

 _Are you okay? Rowena set the trap. She's on her way._

I replied with a yes, and took a deep breath. I stayed in the room for another twenty minutes, just for good measure, before carefully opening the door, and took a look around.

When I was sure that I was alone, I went back into the war room to wait for their return. I saw what remained of Chuck's coffee mug, and bent over to pick up the ceramic shards. Once the mess had been cleaned up, I curled up in one of the chairs, hugging my knees, and watched the door.

A whoosh startled me from my spot, where I had apparently fallen asleep, and I jerked up, stretching my legs out in front of me. I looked over, and saw Sam, who was supporting a weak looking Chuck. Standing around him was the cavalry; Dean, Lucifer, Crowley, and Rowena.

"You're back. What happened?"

Crowley pointed a finger at Chuck, accusingly.

"Still got a few tricks up my sleeve," he replied, before groaning, supporting himself on the edge of the war table. "I'm not dead yet." He tried to stand, but fell backwards, into Sam's arms.

"What happened?" I asked again, rushing over to Chuck's side. We helped into a chair nearby.

"What do we do now?" Castiel's deep voice ground out, and I looked at him. Was Lucifer gone?

I felt a hand on my arm, and looked over at Dean, who gestured for me to follow him. I placed a hand on Chuck's shoulder, giving him a worried look, before I left the room. We stopped out in the hall.

"What's wrong with him?" I whispered.

"It's not good. She knew it was a trap. She was ready." My hand flew to my mouth. "We thought we had her beat. At one point, she had given up." He rubbed his forearm, absentmindedly. A horrifying thought came to mind, and I snatched at his arm, yanking his sleeve up. When I didn't find the Mark, I should have been relieved, but the dread I felt earlier came rushing back. Dean saw the look on my face and squeezed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath.

"Don't move." I ordered, before marching back out to the war room, where Sam was looking over Chuck. I grabbed his arm and spun him around to face me. I pulled up one sleeve, and then the other, inspecting the skin for the Mark. Only when I didn't find it, did I allow myself to breathe. I looked up at him, but he refused to meet my eyes, confirming my worst fear.

"You bastard!" I shoved him, as hard as I could, tears in my eyes, and ran out of the room. He tried to follow, but Chuck stopped him.

"Let her go. Give her time."

I ran up the stairs and out the door, trying to escape the claustrophobic feeling of the bunker. Once I was outside, I looked around. The light was wrong. I looked up at the sky, at the orange clouds, sunrise in the middle of the day, and felt completely lost. The tears had just started to fall again when I heard the door close behind me. Birdie ran past me into the woods, and Dean walked up, handing me a beer.

"How could you let him?" I couldn't look at him, couldn't tear my eyes away from the sky.

"I didn't know, until everything was about to go down." He took a heavy drink of his beer. "I just assumed that it would be me." He turned me around, making me look at him. "I tried to stop him. Chuck said that I couldn't take it back."

I nodded, numbly, turning back to the sky and taking a sip of my beer.

"That's what you guys do, isn't it?" He gave me a curious look. "Sacrifice yourselves."

He put a hand on my shoulder, pulling me into a sideways hug.

"Someone's got to." I leaned into him, wiping tears off of my cheeks. "You should talk to him. We may not have much time left," he whispered, grimly, before calling for Birdie.

She bounded out of the woods, and we all went back inside.

Sam was sitting at the war table, head in his hands. He looked at me walk down the stairs and then out of the room. I wasn't ready to talk to him just yet. I followed Dean into the kitchen, where he cracked open another beer. I reached out for one, and pulled myself up onto the counter.

"Really?" Sam looked at the both of us, incredulously. Castiel was leaning in the door frame looking tired.

"Really," Dean replied, after another swallow. I gave him a petulant look, but didn't say anything. "What? We hit Amara with everything we got, and she walked it off."

"So, what? It's last call?"

"That's right," Dean said with a wry smile. "Look man, if you've got something for me to punch, shoot, or kill, let me know and I'll do it. I'll do it till I die." I shuddered at the mention of death, and took another swig to steel my nerves. "But how are we supposed to fix the freakin' sun?"

Sam threw his hands up in exasperation then turned to face me. He took two large steps, until he was standing right in front of me. He reached up, to hold my face, but I flinched back from his touch. The look in his eyes was heartbreaking.

"Lacey," he whispered my name, his voice breaking. I saw Dean and Cass both vacate the room out of the corner of my eye, on their way to a beer run.

"What were you thinking?" I felt the tears start up again, and wiped my eyes roughly with the back of my hand.

"I was thinking that we had no other choice." He gently grasped my chin, pulling my gaze up. "That it was the only way to save everyone. To save you."

"Why didn't you tell me? I knew something was wrong before you left."

"Would you have let me go?" My silence was enough for him and he wrapped his arms around me, stepping in between my legs.

"Sam, is this the end?"

"If we give up, it will be."

"Well, then let's come up with a plan."

(A/N: So, with the timeline that I'm working, it looks like I'm doing one chapter for each episode, so it looks like I might only have a few chapters left. I know how I want it to end, and it will be after the season finale. Hang in there with me, and as always, comments and all forms of love are appreciated!)


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

(A/N: Alright, you guys are caught up with me. Work has been crazy lately, so thirteen is the most that I've written. I try to keep one chapter ahead, but when they started scheduling me more hours, that became impossible. Which is a good thing, since fanfiction sadly doesn't pay the bills. Anyway, hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! I'm going to try to get fourteen posted by next Monday, but no promises.)

Rowena entered the kitchen, looking positively chipper, asking for a tea pot. I groaned, just remembering our strange company we had left in the war room. I jumped down from the counter, into Sam's arms, before sidestepping him, and pointing to the cabinet where we stashed the kettle and tea bags.

"Be a dear?" Rowena turned around to Sam, pointing to the kettle on the top shelf. Neither of us were tall enough to reach it.

"I've got this," I stated, wanting her out of my presence. "I'll make the tea. You go on."

She gave me a look that bordered on suspicious and I tried to give her the warmest smile possible.

"It helps to keep busy. It's my only contribution."

"Well, okay then, I'll go check on the patient." She turned, her red curls bouncing behind her and left the room.

As I was climbing onto the counter to grab the tea, I felt Sam's hand on my lower back. I looked over as he reached up, grabbing both items easily.

"Thanks, babe," I muttered, as I turned on the stove. He didn't leave my side, so I leaned into him, allowing him to hold me, as we watched the water start to boil. "Is Chuck dying?"

"Yeah." He sounded exhausted, more tired than I'd ever heard him.

"What are we going to do?" I couldn't stop the tears forming in my eyes, as I imagined the world ending. Visions of a future with Sam, marrying him, having his children, all disappearing before my eyes.

"I don't know." His hands found my hair, and he gave the hair tie a gentle tug, undoing my braid. He stared off and his fingers stroked my hair.

The whistle of the kettle spooked us both, and I stepped back, pulling it off of the burner and turning the heat off.

"Here," he whispered, as he held out his hands. I handed him the teacups. "You don't have to go out there, with them, if you don't feel comfortable."

"Sam, today, I was under the same roof as Lucifer, then Amara. I think I can handle Crowley and his mother." I gave him a brave smile and carried the kettle out of the room.

"Samantha!" Crowley shouted, holding up a bottle of whiskey he had found somewhere. "Lacey, love, come have a drink!"

I rolled my eyes at the back of his head, before handing the teacups to Chuck and Rowena, pouring the water into them. I took a seat at the other end of the table, curling my legs up against me as I observed the unlikely group gathered in the library.

"What are we doing?" Sam's voice, a moment later, startled me, and my legs slipped out of the chair.

"Nothing," Rowena responded, sweetly.

"Exactly!" He sounded pissed. "Amara is out there eating the freaking sun, and we're doing nothing." I exchanged worried looks with Chuck from across the table.

"And you have a better idea?" Crowley spoke up from the corner, sipping Dean's secret stash of booze.

"Yes, anything! That's my better idea, because anything is better than this!" He made a sweeping gesture with his hand around the room.

Chuck set his teacup down and looked up at my boyfriend sadly.

"Sam, I get it. Even if we could lock Amara away, it wouldn't do any good now." My eyes snapped to Chuck's face, confused. "I'm dying, and when I'm gone, the cosmic balance between light and dark." his gaze looked away, lost in thought. "It's over."

Everyone's faces looked somber, and I discreetly wiped the tears off of my cheeks. Sam sniffed, and I knew that he was near tears too. He slammed his hand on the table.

"All right, well, if we can't cage her, we have to kill her."

I heard Crowley whisper something from his spot, and looked down at the table. We were all silent for a few minutes, before I heard Sam shift beside me, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

"Dean, I've got an idea. Head on back." He hung up the phone, setting it on the table next to my hand, and looked over at Chuck. "Will it work?"

"It might," was his only reply, leaving the rest of us in the dark about the exchange.

Once Dean and Castiel arrived back at the bunker, we all gathered around the library, while Sam explained his plan.

"Look, you've got darkness and light. If you take one side away," I nodded, mostly to myself, as I started to see Sam's idea come together in my head.

"It upsets the scales, the whole balance of the universe," Cass stated, starting to get the picture as well.

"Exactly, but if you take both away, and now both sides of the scale are empty,"

"It's balanced," I muttered, looking over at Chuck. He nodded, sadly.

"Right, yeah, of course," Dean nodded, walked to stand behind me. I looked up and saw that he had a skeptical look on his face. "Hey, I'm game, but how exactly are we going to do this? I mean, Lucifer hit her with a hand of God, and well, we saw how that turned out."

"She does seems impossible to destroy,"

"Is she, Chuck?" Sam asked, solemnly.

"Well, I," he paused, taking a deep breath. "I mean, I," He continued to falter, stuttering over the words until we all leaned in, shouting his name. He stood up. "Alright, fine. The Darkness might have a weakness." He walked over to where Crowley was sitting and snatched the bottle of whiskey from his hand. "Light."

"He tells us now," Crowley responded from the corner, sarcastically.

"What? I just wanted to trap her. I didn't want to murder her."

"Okay, but now that we're trying to end her," Sam interrupted, trying to get everyone back on track. "How much light are we talking about?"

"I don't know," Chuck laughed, slightly. "Ten thousand suns set to supernova."

I groaned, putting my head in my hands.

"Well, you're God, so just God them up," Dean added.

"Look at me," Chuck stated wearily. He was slumped over in one of the armchairs, holding the bottle of liquor he hadn't even opened. "I'm not in the best shape right now."

The group argued around me for a bit, before finally formulating a plan. They were going to gather enough souls to take down Amara, and Rowena would build a bomb out of them. Once the details were set, the group split up. Castiel was heading to heaven to collect souls there. Crowley was doing the same in Hell. The boys were getting ready to go to Waverly Hills Sanatorium, which apparently was chock full of ghosts.

"I want to come with you," I whispered to Dean, already knowing that Sam would have outright refused.

He shot me a look that was in between shock and admiration.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Dean, come on, I'm going stir crazy here. I haven't left the bunker in almost a week."

"Even if I agreed, what makes you think Sammy would?"

I rolled my eyes, groaning and throwing my hands up.

"Fine, I'll stay here, hold down the fort, _again_." I stomped out of the library and down the hall, slamming the door to my studio.

"Are we really going to fight about this again, Lace?" Sam had cracked open the door, and was leaning against the door frame.

"No, I don't want to fight, not if it might be the last time I see you." My anger had deflated, and had left me beyond exhausted. I was curled up in my Gran's rocker, holding my knees to my chest. He walked over, kneeling in front of me. "I'm tired of feeling useless. The world is freaking ending, and there's nothing I can do to help."

"You do help. You take care of us." I snorted, rolling my eyes, but he ignored it and continued. "You feed us, and clean up after us, without a single complaint. And even if it doesn't seem like it, you being here, while I'm out there, helps me. When you're here, I know that you're safe, and I don't have to worry." He placed a hand on my cheek.

"And what about my worries? Sam, every time you leave, I feel like you're never coming home. Or Dean. You've become my entire world. I don't know how I would survive without you."

"Not going to happen. I'm not going anywhere." He smiled, trying to cheer me up, but it wasn't working.

"Saying that is just naïve and you know it. You don't have to tell me all of your stories for me to know that some pretty fucked up shit happens out there. Dean has been to Hell, he's been a demon. You can't even tell me what you've been through. And you were ready to take the Mark. So don't tell me that I have nothing to worry about. It isn't fair."

"You're right," he sighed, rubbing his eyes, and then stood up. "But this is the life. I wish I could tell you that it could be different."

"You can," I stood up, facing him. He started to protest, but I held a hand up. "It can be. Walk away."

"Lacey, that's not fair."

"I know. It's unfair of me to ask." I stepped into his arms, placing my hands on his chest. "But Sam, I still have to ask. This time, two weeks ago, I thought that you and I had all the time in the world to live our lives. But the first thing I thought of when I realized that Chuck was dying, was all that I would miss out on, with the world ending. I would never marry you, have kids, and grow old with you." I looked up and saw tears start to form in his eyes. "Now that I have realized, it's all that I want. But, I can't have that, won't have that, with the way things are now. I can't be sitting at home for the rest of our lives, wondering if you're going to come home. I can't constantly stress about what I would tell our children why they're dad isn't around anymore." I could see the wheels turning in his head. "Listen, just think about it, okay? I will always stand by you, no matter what. This isn't an ultimatum. I'm just suggesting that after you save the world one more time, you let someone else take over for a change. You've done more than your share."

I grabbed his hand, leading him out of the room. We walked, hand in hand, silently to the garage, where Dean was loading up the trunk of the Impala with shotguns and boxes of salt.

"We good to go?" He asked, looking between us, apprehensively.

"Yeah," Sam cleared his throat. "Let's get this done."

"I love you," I wrapped my arms around his torso, giving him a squeeze. "Be careful, guys."

As I watched the Impala pull out of the garage, I hoped that it would be the last time sending them off.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

We were sitting in the war room, waiting for Crowley and Castiel to return with news. Dean was sitting on top of the table, sipping a beer. Chuck was slumped down in one of the armchairs, looking exhausted. I was curled up in the chair next to him, hugging my knees and holding a bourbon that I hadn't touched. Rowena was sitting in the chair on the opposite side. Sam was at the other end of the table, cleaning his shotgun. The boys had just returned a few minutes before, holding a glowing crystal full of souls.

Crowley appeared at the top of the stairs, looking defeated. He sauntered down the metal staircase, and plopped into an empty chair at the table. Castiel appeared a second later, wearing the same look that Crowley had.

"The angels are," Cass paused, "Heaven won't help."

"They know that this is the end, right?" Dean snapped, looking shocked and indignant. "Of everything." Castiel agreed.

Sam put his shotgun down on the table and walked over to his brother.

"And they don't care?"

"No, it's not that," he shot Chuck an embarrassed look. "They know God is dying and they don't think that we can win this, souls or no souls." He put his hands into the pockets of his trench coat. "They're sealing Heaven and they're, quote, dying with dignity."

I put a hand on Chuck's elbow, before standing up and walking over to the table. I was worried, anxious, and felt that if I didn't move around, I would explode. Crowley looked at the untouched liquor in my hand and pointed at it, questioningly. I shrugged, before handing him the glass.

"Well, that's awesome," Dean added, sarcastically, slapping his leg.

"All right, Crowley, what about you?" Sam looked over at the demon."

"Well, I _had_ all the souls we needed," he started, sipping the bourbon I had given him. Dean shot him a look.

"What do you mean _had?"_

"While I was indisposed, a few of my demonic pals decided to raid my stash."

I looked over at the crystal on the table, then at Chuck.

"Will the ghosts be enough?"

Castiel was the one to answer.

"No, what we have, it's not enough."

Before anyone could respond, the power flickered, and the red emergency lights came on. I jumped, involuntarily, gripping the edge of the table with white knuckles. Sam walked over to my side, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"Well, that could be nothing but good news," Crowley stated, sitting back in his chair. Sam and Dean both pulled their guns out, cocking them, and pointed them at the doorway at the top of the stairs.

We all stared, in bated breath, hearing the footsteps approach.

The big iron door opened with a creak, and a woman walked in, with big curly black hair, and a leather jacket. She looked around at all of us.

"Nice digs."

Both boys lowered their guns, before Sam looked up at her, confused.

"Billie?"

I looked up at him, waiting for an explanation, but didn't get one.

"Who's Billie?" Rowena asked, speaking up for the first time.

"Reaper," Dean ground out with a sneer. "Wants us dead. Tons of fun." He placed his gun down on the table by the crystal. I looked at the newcomer with morbid fascination.

She walked by Crowley, giving him a flirty greeting, before approaching the group.

"Wait a second, how did you," Sam managed to stutter out. "What are you doing here?"

She looked at the both of them, crossing her arms.

"I saw you boys at Waverly Hills, and call me a curious kitten, but with, you know, the credits about to roll, I gotta ask. Why you guys busting ghosts?"

"Why do you care?"

"Dead folks, kind of my thing. So, spill."

Dean looked over at Sam, before shrugging.

"We're collecting souls, to build a bomb." Sam answered her.

"To blow the Darkness to hell." Dean finished, looking at the crystal on the table.

"Okay." Everyone turned to look at Billie, incredulously.

"Okay? What does that mean, okay?" Sam asked the question that we were all thinking.

"Means, the way things are going, I'm about an hour away from reaping God himself." I looked over at Chuck, who was looking pale and tired. Tears sprung up in my eyes, and I didn't try to wipe them away.

"So, you're here to help us." Castiel looked at her, suspiciously.

"Little tip, you want souls, call a reaper," she replied, smugly. She picked up the crystal, holding it in her hand at eye level, and the light in the crystal flickered.

"Well, this is exciting." Dean rolled his eyes.

The light flashed brighter, and I jumped, as balls of white light began to swirl around her, getting sucked into the crystal. Once she was done, it glowed a blinding white in her hand.

"How many souls are in there?"

"A couple hundred," she paused, "thousand. I raided the Veil. Like I said, dead folks, kind of my thing." She looked over at Rowena, who had approached and took the fully loaded crystal out of her hand, gingerly. "We good?"

"Very."

"Super," Billie turned to leave.

"See you around," Dean called out to her.

"Yeah," she responded, matter of factly. "You will. Just hope it's not today." She looked over at Crowley, nodding and acknowledged him.

Rowena placed the crystal on the table in front of me.

"So, what now?" I asked, staring at it with wide eyes. Sam walked back over to me, putting his fingers in my hair.

"Now, we have the bomb, so we just got to find Amara."

"I can track her," Chuck said, sounding weak. "She's not warded anymore. Why would she be? She won." He pulled himself up, leaning against the wall for support.

"Okay, so?"

"We need somebody to get close to her, someone with a personal connection." Castiel looked over at Dean. My eyes snapped over to Castiel as the meaning of his words hit me.

Dean took a look at all of the eyes in the room focused on him, before taking a deep breath and laughing sardonically.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" He walked up to Rowena. "How do I smuggle this thing?"

"We could always shove it up your," Crowley was cut off by Sam and Dean sternly. "Well, I mean, you could," he finished, quietly.

Rowena looked at Dean with a somber look in her eyes.

"You won't carry the bomb. You'll be the bomb."

The tears had started to fall freely from my eyes, and I curled myself up in the chair, trying my hardest not to cry out. I looked over at Sam, and the look on his face broke my heart.

"I'm going to take what's in there, and put it in here." She placed a hand on his chest, just over his heart. "Once you get close to her, you press your fingers together like so," Removing her hand from his chest, she demonstrated how to trigger the bomb. "Boom."

I sobbed out loud, not being able to hold it in, and stood up. I walked up the stairs, and out of the room. The sky was still dim, and I noticed that the temperature had dropped outside. I sat down on the cold concrete, rubbing my arms briskly, and finally allowing the tears to fall. I cried, and prayed, until there were no more tears left. I felt numb when I walked back inside, in just enough time to see Rowena casting the spell to transfer the souls into Dean. When she was finished, he doubled over, groaning.

"Dean, are you okay?" Castiel asked, softly, looking at him with a worried look painted on his face. "How do you feel?"

I watched him rise, taking fast, heavy breaths, from the top of the staircase. I wanted to go downstairs with the rest of the group, but couldn't will my feet to move.

"Like my insides just got flame-broiled. Is that normal?"

Rowena put the now empty crystal back on the table and looked over at Dean.

"Sweetie, we're so far past normal. You've got about an hour, maybe a wee bit more, then you're literally a walking ticking time bomb."

Everyone looked down, and the silence weighed heavy in the air. I finally found the courage to descend, and my heavy footsteps on the metal stairs broke everyone out of their thoughts, and their attention all turned to me. I blushed with embarrassment, wiping the tears off of my hot, red face.

"Come on Sam, there's somewhere I want to take you." Dean turned and left the room, gesturing for us all to follow. I heard Birdie scratching at the door to our bedroom, and hurried down the hall to let her out. Once the door was open, she bolted out, running to catch up with Dean. He looked down at her sadly, patting her head, before heading to the garage.

Rowena met us at the door, holding up Chuck, who was fading fast. He nodded at Dean, a silent understanding between them that left us in the dark, before they disappeared. Castiel and Crowley also vanished. Dean opened the back door to the Impala, letting me slide in before calling Birdie to hop in after me. Sam climbed into the passenger seat, and the engine roared to life.

The drive to our destination was a short one, but silent. I leaned over, rolling down the window, so Birdie could stick her nose out, smelling our surroundings as they flew past us. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth, happily, dripping bits of drool. She turned to look at me, with a big smile on her face, clearly enjoying her first trip in Baby. I scratched her back, between her shoulder blades, before turning back to my own window, silently wiping the stubborn tears off of my cheeks.

We pulled into the Lebanon Memorial Cemetery after a ten minute drive, and all silently climbed out of the car. Dean led us into the graveyard, stopping when he saw the rest of our group already there, standing over a single grave. When I saw the name on the gravestone, my stomach fell.

I took a few steps back, giving both boys the space to have a moment with their mother. The others followed suit, walking back towards the Impala.

"Dean, you know," Sam paused, his voice breaking, "you don't have to do this." He wouldn't look at his brother, keeping his gaze down at the grave at his feet.

"Course I do." Dean's voice was full of exhaustion, like he had no fight left in him. The sound broke my heart, and the tears started to fall again. I felt like I should be out of tears, but they just kept coming. "I just have to get close. I can do that, okay?" His gaze was also fixed on his mother's grave. "I can do that."

"You know, if this works, that bomb goes off," he trailed off, unable to say the words.

"I know." Dean turned to look at Sam, with a half-smile on his face. He put a hand on his shoulder and turned away from the grave, walking back towards the group. Sam stayed for another moment, planting a kiss on his fingers, then placing them softly on the top of the cold granite, before looking up at me, tears in his eyes. I walked over, grabbing his hand, and gave it a squeeze, before following Dean back to the gravel path, leaving Sam behind.

Once the group was back together, Dean turned to Chuck, who was leaning against the Impala, with Rowena supporting him.

"You cool with this?"

"No," he shrugged, and then stuttered out, "I, even after everything that she's done, Amara's still my sister. She's my family. I can't, I don't want to see her dead, but," he paused, and Dean gestured for him to finish. "I understand."

"Dean," Castiel spoke up, walking up to him.

"Cass?" The angel didn't reply, but pulled him into a tight hug. "Okay, all right." Dean returned the hug, a ghost of a smile on his face.

"I could go with you." Castiel offered, pulling away, and putting his hands into the pocket of his trench coat.

"No, no, no, no," Dean replied, shaking his head. "No, I got to do this alone." He looked behind Cass, first at Sam then at me. "Listen, if, when this works, Sam, he's gonna be a mess." He looked at me again, making sure that I was listening, and I nodded back to him, wrapping my arms around myself. "So, look out for him, okay? Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

"Of course." Castiel agreed, and we both looked back at him, and saw him slowly approaching, a defeated look in his eyes.

"Thank you for everything." Dean placed a hand on his shoulder, before looking over at me.

I walked over to Dean, the man who had become my brother, and threw my arms around him. He returned the hug, planting a kiss on the top of my head.

"Dean, I can't," I managed to get out, around my tears. "I've said goodbye to so many people. I can't," I couldn't finish, my sobs taking over. He gave me one good squeeze, before pulling back to look at me.

"Then don't. Don't say goodbye." He smiled at me, his mouth quirking up to one side, before tugging on a lock of my hair and releasing me. I heard Sam's footsteps behind me, and I turned away, walking over to Chuck and putting my head on his shoulder.

"Okay, look," he said out loud to the group, his voice lightening. "I want a big funeral. All right? I'm talking epic. Okay, open bar, choir, Sabbath cover band, Gary Busey reading the eulogy." His attempt to lighten the mood fell flat.

"Done," Sam replied, not looking up from his boots.

"And for my ashes, I like it here." Tears had started to well up in his eyes, causing most of the group to follow suit. Even Rowena looked a little misty eyed. "Yeah. You know, as far as eternal resting places go." He looked over at Chuck, who nodded, sadly.

Dean looked around, a few tears falling from his eyes, and pulled the keys to the Impala out of his pocket. He looked at them for a moment, before walking over to Sam, who refused to take them, refused to even look at him.

"Come on, you know the drill. No chick-flick moments. Come on."

Sam took a deep breath, finally taking the keys from him. He cleared his throat.

"Yeah, you love chick-flicks." He let out a humorless laugh.

"Yeah, you're right, I do. Come here." He pulled his younger brother into a hug, holding him tightly. When they both backed away, both had an exhausted look on their faces. He turned back to Chuck. "Okay, let's do this."

Chuck nodded, then snapped his fingers, and Dean vanished.

After a moment of silence, Chuck spoke up.

"Well, I could use a drink." He snapped his finger again, transporting all of us, and the Impala, to a seedy, little bar on the outskirts of town called The Lazy Shag.

We walked up to the door, past a few people walking by, carrying Doomsday signs.

"He's not wrong," Crowley noted, pointing his chin at the old man leading the pack, holding a sign that said _The End is Near_. He sighed when he saw the closed sign hanging on the door. "One little apocalypse, and they shut up shop. Quitters." He flicked a finger at the doors, which flew open, and we all walked in. "You're round, Moose."

I walked behind the bar, Birdie following behind me, and I pulled a bottle of bourbon down from the wall. I raised the bottle up to Chuck, and he shook his head. Counting out four glasses, I poured each of us a double, and passed them out.

"To Squirrel, for saving the day," Crowley raised his glass, and we all followed suit, muttering "To Dean," before knocking them back. I gulped mine down, and immediately poured myself another.

After the third double-shot, my face began to get tingly, and I felt my emotions begin to numb. I relished the feeling, after being on overload all day.

Crowley snapped his fingers at the TV, and a news reporter's voice began to narrate speculation on the happenings going on in the world, and I tried to drown it out.

Unable to turn the voice into white noise, I grabbed another bottle of whiskey off of the bar, and walked towards the door.

"Lace, where are you going?" Sam grabbed my arm gently, as I walked by him.

"I just need a minute." I waved my hand at him, pulling out of his grasp, and pushed through the double doors. Once outside, I pulled myself up on top of the concrete wall that fenced in the patio, pulled the pour spout off of the bottle, and took a swig, looking up at the sun.

I looked around, watching the crowds of people walking down the street. I noticed a man, standing on a wooden fruit crate, shouting scripture at people walking by. I sat outside, watching and drinking, losing track of time.

"Lacey, is Chuck out here with you?" I turned to look at Sam, a bit too fast, and I slipped backwards, falling off of the half wall. He took three big steps over, in just enough time to catch me. He grabbed the half empty bottle out of my hand and slammed it down on the nearby table.

"No, I haven't seen him. Why?" I looked around for any sign of him, which made my head spin again, and I stopped, cradling my forehead in my hand.

"He was in the bar one minute, the next, gone." He led me a chair at the table, gesturing for me to sit.

A stone dropped in my stomach, and I fought the urge to vomit.

"You don't think he," I couldn't finish my question, new tears welling up in my eyes.

"I don't know." He sat down beside me, sighing, and rubbed his eyes with both hands.

I turned to face him, leaning my forehead on his shoulder, and released the sobs I had been holding back.

"Sam, I'm not ready. I don't want this to be it." He turned his chair towards me, pulling me into his arms, and stroked my hair. "There was so much we didn't get to do." I felt him start to shake, and felt a warm teardrop fall on my cheek. I pulled back, looking into his sad, hazel eyes.

"Shh." He framed my face with his big hands, brushing my tears away with his thumbs. "Lace, I love you." He pulled me into a desperate kiss, holding me to him tightly. "I'm sorry," his voice trailed off, as he turned to look at the sky.

My foggy mind caught up a second later, as I saw the light change around us, growing brighter and brighter, until I had to shield my eyes as they adjusted. I followed his gaze to the sky, and saw the sun again, unobstructed by the dark clouds that had previously hidden it.

Sam took a deep breath, and let out a single laugh, devoid of humor. A moment later, the doors burst open, and Rowena walked out, shielding her eyes with her arm, followed by Crowley, then Castiel.

"He did it." Crowley shrugged, looking up at the sky.

"He bloody did it," Rowena exclaimed, looking over at Sam.

"And Dean?" Castiel asked, looking at us with his eyes squinted.

At the mention of his brother's name, Sam's shoulders started to shake, and he took a few heavy breaths before looking down at the ground. I looked over his shoulder Rowena and Crowley, trying to silently dismiss them. Crowley took the hint.

"Well, I guess we're done here. Let's go, Mother." He sniffed, turning around. "Be seeing you, Moose."

"Take care, Samuel." Rowena gave my boyfriend a last look, before taking Crowley's arm and the pair vanished.

"Sam, we should get you home." Castiel said, walking over.

"Not yet. Just give me some time." He nodded, pulling up a chair, and sat down beside us in silence.

We sat there, looking at the sky, until the sun started to set. Once it was dark, Sam patted my leg, and stood, walking over to the Impala with the keys in his hand. Castiel called Birdie over, holding the back door open for her, and then slid in after her. Sam opened the passenger side door for me, and watched me climb in, brushing a lock of hair out of my face when I was settled. Once he was behind the wheel, he started the engine, and grabbed my hand.

"Let's go home."

 _Finis._

(A/N: Whew, so, over a year ago, I started this. Then I took a very long hiatus, thanks to life, and all the big changes that came with it. I can say, confidently, that this has finally come to an end. I thought about continuing into season twelve, but honestly, I don't think my heart would be in it. There's a lot that I didn't like about the last season, and I don't think that I could work Lacey in anywhere, that wouldn't feel forced. And truthfully, I love this story too much to do it that injustice. So, I want to thank everyone that took the time to read, comment, etc. Your kind words were the real reason I picked this back up to finish; keep it from collecting dust. I felt that you guys all deserved a real ending. You guys rock. Kisses!)


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